Limelight
by maturebel
Summary: Clary Fairchild needs her new comic book series to succeed so her boyfriend's comic shop doesn't get shut down. Jace Herondale needs to be cast in a movie before his career dies. But there's a condition - Jace needs to clean up his image, and the easiest way to do that is to get a girlfriend. When his manager suggests his sister's roommate for the job, tensions run high.
1. Chapter 1

**Jace**

There's a pounding in my head, like the sound of someone trying to break down a door. I groan and open my eyes, watching the room spin into view. Bright morning light filters in through the windows, almost blinding me. I lift my head from - where am I? I sit up, the room spiraling around me like a carnival ride. I'm in the middle of my kitchen floor, and there's a couple of random people splayed out across the floor. The place reeks of alcohol.

I stand, one of my feet pressed to the cold floor. Why am I only wearing one sock? On further inspection, it's not even mine. I peel it off of my foot and cast it to the floor. Other than that, all I wear is a pair of boxer shorts. My head pounds like the worst kind of hangover. I try to remember what happened last night.

It was an appearance, I think, at a local club. I don't remember deciding to get drunk. I don't remember much at all. The only images popping up in my mind are of blonde curls, blue eyes, and a waitress uniform with _Kaelie_ stitched across the front.

There's cold coffee from yesterday still sitting in a mug on the counter of my kitchen. I grab it and down it, wincing at the bitter taste. My throat aches like I swallowed fire. What did happen last night anyways? Who are all of these random people in my suite?

A harsh knocking echoes through the room. I turn to the front door and silently debate whether or not to put on pants, or at least a shirt, before I answer the door. I decide against it at the last minute. It's not like people haven't seen me in less in the movies. I open the door, running a hand through my tangled hair.

My manager stands on the other side of the threshold. He does not look amused. In fact, he looks tired - tired and angry. He pushes past me and walks into the suite, wrinkling his nose at the strong alcohol smell. "Jace," he says in a tight voice. "Who are these people?"

I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose just between my eyes. "I'm not exactly sure."

"Get them out of here, please," Alec sighs, sinking down into one of my armchairs by my picture window. It was one of the reasons I moved into this suite - a great view of the New York City skyline, just for my viewing pleasure. Of course, right now it's cloudy, and only the pinpoint lights from nearby buildings cut through the gray.

I awkwardly shake the various people crashed about awake and usher them quickly out of the door before they can become fully conscious. I hope they can find their own way down to the lobby and out of the building. I sit in the armchair next to Alec's. He doesn't look at me.

"You," he says, "are quite possibly the most idiotic asshole I've ever met. It's just lovely that I get the honor of being your manager."

I look over at him, and he finally meets my gaze, his blue eyes washed out by the morning light. "What happened?"

"Honestly," he groans. "If you're going to do something stupid, you could at least remember it." Alec shoves his phone into my hands. "Look familiar?"

I flip through the pictures. It's me, holding deer antlers to my forehead, running down the street. Wearing only what I wear now. I put on a cocky smile and turn back to Alec. "I see."

"Don't smile about it, Jace," Alec snaps. "You were supposed to just be doing an appearance. You need to keep a good, relatively clean profile if you want to talk to Magnus Bane about his movie series!"

I frown at him. "C'mon, Alec. It's not like he won't hire me. It's me. Jace Herondale."

"With all the press you're getting, you're turning from hotshot to laughingstock, really fast." His blue eyes are like chips of glass, cold and hard and unmoving. "I already had to convince Magnus Bane to schedule a meeting with you. If you continue on this path, you'll be a joke, Jace. A joke with no job."

I stand, ignoring my headache and began to pace. "So, what? I can't just undo things that already happened. What do you want me to do?"

Alec stands too, his washed out sweater hanging awkwardly on his tall form. "Well, for starters, you could stop sleeping with everything with two legs," he says, his tone carefully neutral.

"What? I don't do that," I snap. Flirt, sure. Kiss, maybe. But I don't sleep around.

He crosses his arms. "People think it's immature, Jace. If you got a girlfriend, it would make your image a lot more...stable."

"I don't date," I remind him. "I don't want to settle down."

Alec rolls his eyes. "Which is exactly why you should. To show that you can grow up and be mature."

I huff out a breath. The last thing I want is a fussy girl hanging on my arm everywhere I go. "So, what? I'm just supposed to walk down the street and ask a girl out? They would be dating me for my status or my money and you know it."

"How about Aline Penhallow?" he asks. I think back on her. We costarred in a movie two years ago. She's pretty, but I don't feel like our personalities clicked much. Nothing beyond regular workplace friendship.

"I don't want to date someone famous," I tell him.

Alec throws his hands up. "Then what, Jace?"

"I don't want a girlfriend."

He presses his lips together into a thin line. "Then what if you weren't really dating? What if you just met up with someone in public every now and then and took them to events?"

I frown. "Would that make you happy?"

Alec flinches. "Yes. It would."

"Fine then. Who?"

He looks out the window. The clouds are beginning to clear. "I'll find someone. I can ask my sister if she'll do it."

I look at him, dumbfounded. "You want me to fake date your sister?" Don't get me wrong, Alec's sister is gorgeous. But beautiful in an untouchable way.

He shakes his head. "You're right. Definitely not. But she has a roommate. Maybe she can do it."

I sigh. "What's her name?"

"Clary."

 **Clary**

My hand flutters across the page, tracing carefully over my light pencil sketches. I watch as the pictures bloom to life on the sheet - the tall, dark haired prince with the black eyes with his long fingers wrapped around the arm of his small, redheaded sister. Simon designed them to be all opposites; he's cold, violently beautiful, with sharp cheekbones and skin as white as snow in contrast to his ebony hair; she's all soft lines and light, pink cheeks and red curls. Simon told me that she's supposed to be a bit like me. I don't believe it for a second.

"How's it coming?" says a familiar voice from behind me. I drop my pencils and tilt my head back over the back of the sofa. My boyfriend, Simon, stands behind me with a grin on his face. His glasses hang slightly crooked on his face as he leans down to kiss me. He smells so familiar, a smell I've known for my whole life - coffee, comic books, and lemongrass soap.

I set the half-finished page on the table next to the couch and sigh. Simon rolls over the back of the couch and settles into the cushion next to me. "Pretty good," I tell him. "It's taking a bit longer than I thought it would, though."

He leans over my lap to look at the drawings. "Clary, these look fantastic," he says with a wide grin. "These comics are going to sell like hotcakes when they come out."

"'Sell like hotcakes,' Simon?" I laugh, smacking him lightly on the shoulder.

He turns to face me with his eyebrow pulled together in mock hurt. "But of course." He reaches forwards to pull a lock of my hair between his fingers. I bat his hand away. "You'll be at the release party at Midtown, right?"

"Yeah," I answer. Simon owns and runs Midtown Comics, a hole-in-the-wall comic shop a few blocks away from our Brooklyn apartment. For the past few months, we've been planning and writing out our own comic series. Simon writes and sells them, and I illustrate.

He bumps his knee to mine. "You're hogging the couch."

"I am not!" I protest. Half of the sofa is still empty. Simon's lips twist up into a sly grin and he pulls me onto his lap.

"Much better," he murmurs against my cheek, before sliding his lips to mine. I grin against his lips and place my hands lightly on his back, gently twisting the washed out blue fabric of his _Star Wars_ shirt.

The door to the apartment bangs open and we jerk awkwardly apart. I roll back down onto the couch next to Simon, who adjusts his glasses but only succeeds in making them more crooked. Our roommate, Isabelle, stands in the doorway with an amused expression on her face. "Am I interrupting something?" She strides into the room, looking effortlessly flawless, like usual. Her glossy dark hair is curled perfectly around her pale face, her lips stained a ruby red, her clothes modern and stylish. She gives me a sly look. "I can leave, if you two have business to attend to."

"Izzy!" I groan at her, jumping up from the couch. I tuck the drawings carefully into their folder and set it back on the overflowing bookshelf that holds aspects of our lives - Izzy's shelf has fashion magazines, a spare hairbrush, and extra lipsticks; Simon's has comics, a video game controller, and a few of his favorite movies on DVD; mine has sketchbooks, art supplies, and a picture of us three from two years ago.

She grins. "What? It's perfectly natural." Isabelle kicks off her heels, making her five inches shorter. She drops the bag she's carrying onto the kitchen table. Simon comes up behind me and presses a kiss to the skin behind my ear.

Isabelle makes a face at us before grinning. "Want me to whip up some dinner?"

"No," says Simon quickly. Isabelle narrows her eyes at him dangerously. I love her to death, but she's a complete nightmare when she's angry. I feel Simon tense slightly behind me, but relax when she rolls her eyes at him.

"Relax," she says. "I picked up Chinese food from the Jade Wolf on my way home." She gestures towards the bag on the table.

We all dive for the food and end up in our usual spots in the living room/dining room/kitchen of our apartment - Izzy stretched out like a cat on the red velvet divan she got at a thrift store, and me and Simon curled up on the ratty blue sofa that came with the place. Simon flicks on the news and I begin to eat as the broadcast rolls.

"Seelie Queen here for Channel 4," says the newscaster in her silky voice. In my opinion, she doesn't dress professionally for television, but that's just me. Today, it's a short dark green dress with a plunging neckline. Her dark red hair is pulled into a spiraling bun, and her eyes glitter with golden eyeshadow. A blurry image comes up on screen of a blonde boy running down the street, holding deer antlers to his forehead, the broadcast artfully blurred around his waist. The caption reads, _Celebrity Jace Herondale flashes Madison Avenue while intoxicated!_

Isabelle clears her throat awkwardly. "Hey, Clary," she says, sounding nervous.

"Yeah?" I flick my eyes away from the screen.

She sighs. "You remember my brother, yeah? Alec?"

I think back to the last time I saw him, about a year ago when he came to see Isabelle. They look a lot alike. Both are tall, dark haired, and attractive, though where Isabelle's eyes are dark brown, Alec's are blue. "Yeah. Why?"

"Well, you know that he's managing Jace Herondale..." she trails off, glancing back at the screen before turning her attention back to me. "And I need you to do us a huge, huge favor."

I shift in my seat. Simon's hand snakes around my back to fit at my waist. "What is it?"

"We need you to pretend to date Jace."

* * *

 **Well, hello all! I got this idea for a story about a month ago and finally got around to starting it. So, there you go, chapter one. Hopefully this idea hasn't been done many times before. If you liked it, leave me a review and let me know! Thanks for reading :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Clary**

Simon sits on the edge of my bed, his arms crossed over his chest. "I don't understand why you're doing this," he says for what feels like perhaps the thousandth time. I whirl away from my dresser to face him, tugging my unruly curls up away from my face with one hand and stretching a hair tie in the other.

"It's only until he gets cast in some new movie, Si," I remind him. "Anyways, it's a favor for Izzy." I finish tying up my hair and sit on the bed next to him. His fingers worry at the dark red bedspread, and a line creases his forehead.

He lets out a gusty sigh. "God, I know. I just don't like it, that's all." He reaches out and tugs lightly at a piece of hair that's escaped my ponytail.

I try to smile at him, but it's not easy. I would rather not be doing this. But Isabelle practically begged, and she never so much as asks twice for anything. Anyways, it's just seeing him a couple times a week for a few weeks, right? Nothing to worry about. Nothing at all. "Every night, I'll be back here with you. Where I belong."

Simon leans in and presses his lips to mine. The kiss is slow, sweet, and gentle, the way kisses with Simon always are. Not that I've kissed anybody else. He pulls back and rests his forehead to mine. "I can't wait for it to all be over," he says softly.

"Me too," I tell him earnestly. "Just try not to get too jealous," I tease.

Simon shoves my shoulder with a snort. "Watch yourself, Clary, or I might just have to spill some embarrassing stories to the press when you become a hotshot."

I gasp in mock surprise. "You wouldn't dare!"

"Like," he says with a small grin, "the time we were at the pool as kids and you had a crush on that lifeguard, and pretended to be bad at swimming so he'd come and save you, and then proceeded to fail at fake drowning and have a terrible nosebleed in front of him."

"Hey!" I protest. "He was hot, okay?"

Simon lifts an eyebrow. "Hotter than me?"

I tap my finger against my chin. "Hm..."

"Hey!" he retorts, reaching forwards to tickle my side. I gasp and fall back against my bed, a strangled laugh escaping my lips. Simon silences me by reaching forwards and kissing me again.

The door to my bedroom flies open and Isabelle lets out a dramatic sigh. "Really. When I agreed to move in with you two, I was not planing on you to begin dating and being nasty all over this apartment."

I roll my eyes at her and sit up, my cheeks flushed. Me and Simon started dating about eight months ago, but we've known each other since kindergarten. Isabelle's parents were friends with my mom, and when she decided to move to New York a few years back, they suggested she live with us.

"Come on Clary," she groans at me. "I told you to be ready to go."

I stand up, and Simon rises to hover beside me. "I am."

Isabelle's eyes widen. "I don't think so. Do you see yourself?"

I scowl at her and look at my reflection in my small mirror. What's wrong with how I look? I just look like normal Clary - black ankle boots, plain jeans, an olive green t-shirt, and my favorite gray sweatshirt over it. "I think she looks fine," says Simon. I shoot him a grateful look.

"You're meeting with Jace Herondale," Isabelle says in an incredulous voice. "You could have put in some effort. Most girls would die for this."

I huff. "I'm not 'most girls,' Iz. Anyways, I even put on mascara!"

She shakes her head at me. "Clary, please let me help you. It will be fun!"

"I don't have much of a choice, do I," I say in a resigned voice. Isabelle is always trying to convince me to let her dress me and do my makeup or hair. I'm usually able to fend off her advances, but she seems more determined than usual.

Simon shakes his head. "Women," he says. "I will never understand them." He pulls me in for a quick peck on the corner of my mouth before reluctantly releasing me. "I have to go open the shop." He eyes me warily. "Good luck, I guess."

He's gone before I can reply.

Isabelle grins at me. "Let's go, then." She tugs me into her own room, a mishmash of feathers and sequins and faux velvet furniture.

"What's so bad about this?" I gesture down to my outfit.

She rolls her eyes. "It's so mundane," she sighs. Without another word, she begins digging through her dresser, tossing random bits of clothing around.

Isabelle throws me a white thing, followed by something soft and brown. I unfold the balls of clothing and find a cropped white sweater and small suede skirt. I groan. "This is so not my style, Iz."

"Put it on," she says, waltzing over and tugging my hair from the ponytail holding it up. My curls tumble down into my face and I sigh, shrugging out of my jeans and t-shirt and sliding on the new clothes. The sweater is skintight and low necked. I figure it would look nice on somebody who actually has cleavage to show. The skirt is shorter than anything I'd usually wear, even to bed.

I shake my head at her. "It's cold out. This is basically summer clothing."

Isabelle shrugs. "Okay. Here." She tosses me an orange knit scarf and busies herself with my hair, expertly clipping it up around my face with golden pins. I grumpily wrap the scarf around my neck and pull my boots back on before Isabelle can suggest heels.

She steps back and smiles at me. "There."

 **Jace**

I sit on a bench in Central Park, the autumn breeze catching bits of my blonde hair and blowing it into my eyes. I push it back with an irritable hand. Alec said the girl - Clary - would meet me here. So I guess my day is going to be wasted carting some girl around on my arm and pretending to be happy about it. I frown and zip up my black jacket all the way.

A girl with blonde hair curled around her shoulders who appears to be half-drowned in makeup looks over at me and smiles. It must be Clary. She walks slowly towards me, her ankles shaking slightly atop her heels. "Sorry, are you Jace Herondale?" She giggles. "You look just like him."

I lean back against the bench. So it must not be Clary after all. "No," I lie, surveying the girl. She looks like she's dressed to go clubbing, even though it's eleven in the morning in Central Park. "I get that a lot."

"Oh." She looks disappointed. Her pale green eyes flick to the bench. "Can I sit?"

I stand quickly. "Sorry. I'm...waiting for somebody."

"A girlfriend?" she asks, tilting her head to the side.

Is this a date? A fake one, I guess. Alec said Clary has a boyfriend. This whole situation is weird, even for me. "Sure," I reply, wishing she would quit talking to me. I scan the park for someone who might be Clary, but I have no idea what she looks like. Alec didn't have a picture of her to show me.

The girl looks disappointed. "Okay." She doesn't leave, standing awkwardly next to me. I shift away from her a little.

Someone taps my shoulder and I spin around. A girl stands behind me, her emerald green eyes open wide. "Jace," she says, and her voice is flat and unimpressed. Her pale face is spattered with soft brown freckles, and wild red curls frame her face.

The blonde girl gasps. "You _are_ Jace Herondale!"

"Please leave us alone," I tell her. She swallows and nods, mumbling things as she goes.

The redhead lets out a long breath. The scarf around her neck is only a shade darker than her hair, I notice. She doesn't look like someone who would be friends with Isabelle Lightwood. "Are you Clary?" She's a strange choice for me, I have to say. I'd expect Alec to have chosen someone...I don't know, like his sister. This girl isn't even wearing any makeup that I can see. She's short too - her head would barely reach the bottom of my chin.

"Yes," she replies. We both stand in silence for a moment. This is terrible, and awkward. I wish I was drunk.

"Do you want to get coffee?" I ask, just so we have something to do.

She nods. "Sure." We walk along the path and see a man pushing a cart selling hot drinks and pastries. Clary pushes her coppery hair away from her face and surveys the menu. "I'll take a small coffee," she says, before turning to me. Her bright green eyes latch to mine. "What do you want?" My mouth feels dry.

I swallow. "Uh, whatever you're getting I guess."

Clary turns back to the man and flashes him a small smile. "Make that two." He nods at her and begins to make the drinks.

"Cream? Sugar?" he asks.

"I'll take mine black," she says.

The man looks at me. "Me too," I say, feeling stupid for some reason.

Clary throws me an amused glance. "Copying me, are you?"

I scoff at her. "In your wildest dreams, angel face," I reply, the pet name rolling off of my tongue even though I don't remember ever deciding to say it. And believe me, Jace Herondale does _not_ let things slip out.

She lifts an eyebrow and hands me my drink. I pull out my wallet to pay, but see that Clary has already pressed money into the man's hand. I can't remember the last time anyone paid for something for me.

"So," she says as we begin to walk again. "We have to talk about this whole 'us' thing."

I study the way the sunlight reflects off of the flyaway hairs around her head, turning the strands to gold. "Aw, are we an item already? Already using the big u-s?" There. That's some classic Jace-level-sarcasm.

She gives me a sour expression. "Watch it, blondie." She takes a sip of her coffee. "I'm doing this as a favor to Isabelle. So here are my rules."

"Rules?" I interrupt. "I won't leave the toilet seat up."

"Just listen," she sighs, clearly exasperated. I smirk, but I don't get it. Usually girls like my jokes. "We can meet up a couple times a week, and I want to be home before nine at night."

I gasp and throw my hands to my chest in mock shock. "Oh, but of course! Jace Herondale is a perfect gentleman. He wouldn't be returning his little lady too late into the witching hours."

"I'm not 'your little' anything," she retorts, a high blush across her cheekbones. There. I got to her. I grin.

"Fine," I say. "Even though everything fun happens after that."

She shakes her head and takes another sip of her coffee. "Thank you."

I stop at the pond as it rises up in front of us. "You're welcome."

Clary reaches out and punches me on the arm. She actually punched me! I turn to her with my eyebrows raised. "What was that for?"

She smiles for the first time, and her teeth are straight and white. "You were supposed to thank me too, idiot."

* * *

 **So chapter two is up. Hooray. I know this wasn't an overly exciting bit of writing, but I needed to write it so I can begin to actually shape the story. Hope you all enjoyed it anyways! As always, leave a review if you feel like :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Clary**

"Nasty little buggers," hisses Jace. "They're not to be trusted under any circumstance."

I lift an eyebrow at him and snort. "Who? The...ducks?"

He looks at me, his face serious. "Of course. Just look at them."

I follow his gaze to the pond in front of us. A few ducks float on the glassy surface, glaring expectantly at us every so often as if asking for breadcrumbs. I suddenly wish I had some. A short laugh escapes my mouth. "They're ducks. Just ducks."

"'Just ducks'?" he repeats incredulously, though the shadow of a smile appears at the corner of his mouth. "I'll be the one to say 'I told you so' when they take over the world."

I snort. "Sure."

Jace shakes his head at me, his soft curls falling over his forehead. His hair is such an interesting color - light gold, like the color of white things in the sun. I feel my fingers curl in with the urge to paint that exact color. He stands and offers me his hand. "Shall we walk?"

I ignore his extended hand and stand on my own. "Let's go," I say breezily.

I toss my empty coffee cup into a garbage bin as we pass it, feeling frizzy and not at all in the mood to be on a fake date with Jace Herondale. Our of nowhere, he brushes the hair off of my neck and leans in close to my ear. I shiver as he whispers, "Paparazzi are here. Just don't look at them." Heat rises in my cheeks even after he pulls away.

"What am I supposed to do?" I hiss at him, shooting him a look out of the corner of my eye.

A wicked grin spreads across his face. "Come here," he says in a low voice, before looping his hands around my back and pulling me close to him.

"Don't you dare kiss me," I huff in a breathless voice. Jace smells like black pepper and something deep and sweet. He smirks and laughs a little, his chest shaking against my cheek.

"You'd be honored," he says, brushing my hair back with his hand. "But alas, this is probably good enough. Just act like you're enjoying it. Though..." He leans in close to my ear again. "That doesn't require much _acting_."

I scoff. "Contrary to popular belief, Herondale, you are not God's gift to mankind."

"Of course I am," he replies easily. He drops one arm but keeps the other firmly around my waist, and begins walking again. I have to walk faster than usual to keep up with his long strides and long legs. Curse being short and the stubby legs that comes with it.

I sneak a look behind us to see a team of three people taking what I'm sure they think are covert pictures of us. I can feel my cheeks burning again. Then again, no one knows who I am. I will just be Jace Herondale's unidentified girlfriend for a few weeks, then fall back off the map. Without warning me, Jace pulls me towards him until his body is flush with mine. "Jace-!" I gasp.

"Shh." He leans down and brushes back the hair at my ear. "Pretend I just told you something funny."

I glare at him and let out a half-hearted laugh that sounds in no way believable. Jace sighs and pulls away. "We can work on that," he tells me.

I look at my watch. "I should get going," I tell him.

Jace lifts an eyebrow. I am instantly jealous of him. I have never been able to do that. "I suppose we already did get the coverage I need. I'll walk you home."

"Walk me home?" I laugh. "Jace, we're in Central Park. How rich do you think I am?"

He looks away, but not before I see his cheeks color. "Sorry. I guess I just assumed. Are you going to...take a cab?"

I grin. "That's for tourists, Jace. I'll take the subway. You know...that's how people usually get from Manhattan to Brooklyn."

He frowns. "By yourself? That doesn't seem safe."

"I do it every day," I tell him. He's so clueless. I get that he can afford to be driven around all the time, but is he seriously so clueless about public transportation?

Jace crosses his arms. "I wouldn't be a good boyfriend if I let you go on the subway alone, would I?"

" _Fake_ boyfriend," I sigh, exasperated. "It's not like the subway is full of hooligans with knives."

He pulls up the hood of his jacket, hiding his gold hair and shading his face. "Nope, it's decided. I'm coming with. Anyways, I haven't been to Brooklyn in a while."

I press my lips together. It's evident that he isn't going to change his mind.

Whatever. So be it.

"Let's go."

* * *

 **Jace**

Clary bounces on the balls of her feet as the subway pulls up to the platform. Her red curls are wild and tangled by the wind, but their color is pleasing, bright copper even in the dank tunnel. "Come on, golden boy," she says, getting onto the train. It's packed full of people and smells like sweat, cigarette smoke, and a touch of lavender perfume.

"There's a seat," I say, and point.

She gives me a pointed look. "Would you like to sit down?"

I open my mouth to offer it to her when an idea pops into my mind and I grin down at her. I like how short she is. "We're both going to sit." Before she can protest or ask what I mean, I grab her hand and sit in the seat and pull her onto my lap.

"Hey!" she says indignantly. "Jace, what -"

"Shh." I smirk at her. "Can't let people know who I am, if we want any privacy." I wriggle my eyebrows at her and she lets out something that sounds like a cross between a sigh and a groan.

She frowns. "Why can't I sit in the seat?"

"Because," I say, "I would crush you sitting on your lap. You're so tiny."

Clary's cheeks flush pink, blurring the freckles spattering her nose. "I am not tiny."

I smirk. "Yes, you are. Anyways, why are you so bothered by sitting in my lap? I'm sure you've done it with all the guys you've dated."

She scowls at me. "You mean Simon. Not that it's any of your business." She looks quickly away from me.

"Simon?" I press on, wanting her to look at me again. Her eyes are so bright, the color of the grass in Central Park in April. "That's your boyfriend."

"Yes," she says in a tight voice.

I try to imagine what her boyfriend could look like, but I can't imagine what he would be like at all. "What's he like?"

She looks at me again, caution evident in her emerald eyes. "Why? That's weird. Because me and Simon are dating, but me and you are fake dating. It's like a clash of worlds."

"I just want to know what he's like." Maybe he's athletic. Or a hipster type. Yeah, I could definitely see that.

Clary sighs. "We've been best friends since we were in kindergarten. We basically lived at each other's houses our entire childhood. We were roommates, and then we started dating eight months ago. He owns Midtown Comics." She says the last part with a bit of pride in her voice.

"Wait," I say, unbelieving. "He's a nerd?"

How does a girl as beautiful and smart as Clary end up with someone who runs a comic shop?

"If he's a nerd, I'm a nerd," says Clary with a frown. "We're co-writing a new comic book series. Actually, the first issue drops on Friday."

So she's a writer. Or an artist. I look at her hands, see the flecks of paint stuck under her bare nails. Definitely an artist. "What's it about?"

She gives me a strange look, like she doesn't believe that I'm interested. "A girl whose brother is trying to ruin the world as we know it. And he wants her to join him, but she's the only one who can stop him." Clary pauses. "It makes more sense on paper."

It dawns on me that I've never really hung out with a girl for this long without at least kissing her. I push the thought away. "I might just have to pick up a copy, then."

Clary's eyebrows lift. "But wouldn't that make you a nerd?" she teases lightly.

"Of course not. I'm too hot to be a nerd," I say. She turns away, but not before I see the smile on her face.

"This is my stop," she says, hopping up off of my legs. I feel cold with her sudden absence. "I can go by myself from here."

I shake my head at her. "I'm a bad date if I let you walk around alone, I already told you. Come on. Lead the way."

* * *

Clary walks fast. Like, really fast. She has short legs, but she's good at moving through the people on the sidewalk. Out of nowhere, a young man whose face is flushed bright red with intoxication rams into her and sends her flying backwards into my chest. I grab her shoulders quickly to steady her.

The man grins at her, a leery grin that makes my jaw clench. "Watch yourself, pretty little thing," he rasps, before continuing on down the sidewalk.

Her cheeks are flaming. "Are you okay?" I ask.

She nods, and if possible, her pace becomes more brisk. "Mhmm."

"I guess you're used to it," I muse, only half realizing that I spoke out loud and not in my head.

She stops and whirls around. "What? What is that supposed to mean?"

I put my hands up, in a surrendering pose. "Woah, woah. All I meant is..." Suddenly my tongue feels overlarge in my mouth and I feel stupid, as if I'm on set and forgot an easy line. "You know, guys must say stuff like that to you all the time."

"What makes you think that?"

I squirm under her intense gaze. "Well, you're beautiful, and...just forget I said anything," I finish hastily.

Her cheeks redden further. "And to answer that, no. No one says things like that to me but Simon."

"Wait, is he your first boyfriend?" I cross my arms over my chest.

She scowls at me. "I'm not here for you to judge me, Jace," she huffs. "It's not my fault I'm not some womanizer like you. I will see you later."

With that, she runs across the street, cutting expertly through traffic, and into a shabby looking shop labeled _Midtown Comics._ I frown and lean against the wall of the shop behind me.

Clary pushes into the store, and I see a boy about her age come up to her. He looks like every nerdy guy that I went to high school with - a graphic shirt with a _Star Wars_ symbol on it, glasses, and unstyled brown hair. Even from here, I can see her grin that matches his, and watch as he pulls her in for a soft kiss.

I feel a knot of something cold in my chest. So that's Simon. What's so great about him anyways? He looks so average, so mundane. That was barely even a kiss. If that's her first boyfriend, she's probably never even been kissed properly. _I could do better._ I quickly shove the thought away.

It won't do me any good dwelling on thoughts like that.

* * *

 **Oh Jace. Don't be so jealous of something you don't have. Haha. Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! I love love love you all. The response to this story has been amazing so far, and I'd just like to thank each and every one of you who takes time out of their day to read something I wrote. As of right now, I'm currently going through withdrawal because it's Monday but there will be no new episode of Shadowhunters. What am I supposed to do? Reread the books for the millionth time?**

 **Of course. Haha.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Clary**

I grin as Simon hauls the box of our newly printed comics onto the counter of the shop. His employees, Maia and Jordan, have already left so we can prepare for the launch of our series tomorrow. I painted the windows with designs and made signs to stick up around the block. Hopefully, it will be a hit. He opens the top of the box and pulls out a fresh copy with a grin. _"The Mortal Instruments,"_ he reads out loud. "It's catchy. I just know it'll sell."

"Hopefully," I chime in, kicking off my old sneakers. "Now get your butt moving, Si. We don't have all night."

He laughs. "Technically, we do."

I swat him with a dishrag. "Well, if we don't spend all of our time here, we can actually sleep tonight."

Simon's brown eyes shine. "Sold." He turns up the volume on his little speaker-radio, and his favorite indie rock fills the empty store.

We get to work, setting up tables and arranging our comics about the shop. I wipe down the surfaces so they're free of dust, and Simon rearranges the shelves to make a bigger space around the center table, where we'll be giving out coupons and selling our comics.

I'm finishing laying our the last of the issues when I feel a pair of hands around my waist. "Dance with me?" Simon asks. I grin and turn around, letting him spin me in lazy circles around the shop. Neither of us really know how to dance. _I bet Jace knows how to._ But why am I thinking about that, anyways?

He leans me back against the counter and grins. "What?" I ask him, reaching forwards to straighten his ever-crooked glasses.

Simon leans forwards so his forehead rests against mine. "I love you," he says softly into the small space between our noses.

My heart hammers in my chest. He's told me that before, but not since we've begun dating. His eyes are big and dark as he looks down at me, and I smile up at him. "Oh, Simon," I say quietly. "What would I do without you?"

He laughs and grabs me by the waist, lifting me into the air and spinning me before pulling me back against his chest. "I can't wait for tomorrow."

"Me either."

* * *

Simon and I sit at the center table. He clicks and unclicks a pen, a nervous habit of his. Besides Maia and Jordan, the only people in the store are a mom and her son and Maureen, a regular customer who seems to be obsessed with Simon. She leans on the table, her fuzzy pink sweater displacing a few of the comics set out.

"It's sooo good, I love it!" she says, beaming at Simon. She's only on the first page, and as far as I'm concerned, she hasn't even read any of it yet. I sigh and lean back in my chair. I'm not going to lie about it: the shop could be doing better. A lot better. This shop is Simon's everything. It would kill him if this place closed.

What can we do to bring customers? We've been teasing our series for a while now, but we were planning on selling more than one copy in the first three hours. I can almost feel the worry rolling off of Simon in waves. I wish I could do something, anything, to fix this.

I almost feel like crying as Simon's face slips further and further away from his usual grin. I squeeze his hand in mine and rest my head on his shoulder. "It's okay," I murmur to him, too quietly for Maureen to hear. She eventually leaves, and the store is empty.

Suddenly, the door swings open with force, so hard that the bells on the door tap furiously to the glass. I look up and my head clears of all thoughts. Jace stands in the doorway, his golden hair tousled and damp. He grins when he sees me. "Hey, Clary," he says. I feel Simon stiffen next to me.

"Hello," I respond in a soft voice. What is he doing here? Simon's day really couldn't get worse.

Simon stands awkwardly, clenching and unclenching his fingers. He holds out a hand to Jace, and the situation is equal parts awkward and hilarious. I've never seen Simon shake anyone's hand. "Hi. I'm Simon. Clary's _boyfriend_."

I give him a look. Simon doesn't seem to notice. Jace shakes his hand twice, making the action look both easy and natural. "I'd introduce myself. But you already know who I am." He grins, his face cocky. "But I'll do it anyways. Jace Herondale. Clary's other _boyfriend._ "

Simon's eyes flash. His voice is furious when he says, "She's not your-"

"Simon!" I interrupt, grabbing his arm and pulling him back down into his seat. He gives me an annoyed look, which I ignore. I turn back to Jace. "What are you doing here?"

He runs a hand through his curls. "Well. You mentioned your comic dropping today, so I stopped by to pick one up. And to, you know, bring business."

Simon narrows his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"See for yourself," says Jace, pulling up a chair and sitting behind me and Simon. He pulls his phone out and snaps a few quick pictures of the table before tucking it back into the pockets of his black pants. "They'll be here."

He grabs a copy of the comic and flips it open, beginning to read it. As he does, people begin spilling in the doors - soon the line stretches to the street. Maia and Jordan come around the corner, flustered. "Simon, what-" Maia starts, before seeing Jace. "How did you get the money to hire him to come?" she gasps.

Jace casts a grin at her. "Free of charge."

I exchange a look with Simon. Whether or not he wants to admit it, this is incredible business. The line, admittedly, is mostly overexcited teenage girls, but they are buying the comics. I stand and begin to greet them at the table along with Jace, putting on a bright smile. "Hi, welcome to Midtown Comics. Is this your first time here?"

* * *

 **Jace**

The only thing better than knowing I can draw such a crowd with a simple post on social media is the look on Simon's face. He sulks in his seat, occasionally answering a question about the comic series. It's actually pretty good - I'm about halfway through the issue. I've never been one for comics, but the main character reminds me a lot of Clary.

Maybe she is supposed to be like Clary.

Clary looks over at me, somewhat grudgingly. "Thanks," she murmurs.

"Anytime." I flash her one of my vibrant smiles, but she doesn't see it. She's bent down whispering something into Simon's ear. I feel that old cold knot begin to form in my chest, of some feeling that makes my skin prickle. A sudden desire to spite Simon comes over me.

I sit in my chair and look at both of them, careful to hide my words from the crowd in the store. "The cameras are probably going to come. So..." I look up at Clary and wink. Simon looks as if he may vomit.

I hope nerd boy is taking notes. This has to be the best business his shop has ever gotten.

Clary shoots me a glare. "Jace, anywhere but here."

"Sorry," I say, but I'm not, because Simon finally looks defeated. And he is, because a few people with cameras come through the doors and begin to snap pictures of us. I scoot my chair to be next to Clary and grab her hand. She throws me a sour look before carefully maintaining a neutral expression, acting like the cameras aren't even there.

She's a natural.

It's only an hour before all of the comics have been sold. Simon slumped off to the back room at some point, and I can see how badly Clary wants to go to him. It makes that cold feeling return - why is she so set on catering to his feelings? She's way too good for him, anyways.

"Okay, that's it," she finally says. "We're closing shop."

No one listens. The people in line act as if she didn't talk. A spike of anger shoots down my spine. Why are they all just ignoring Clary? "Shop's closed!" I yell. The room falls silent. "So," I continue, throwing in a smile. "Be sure to be back for issue two."

It takes several minutes for all of the customers - and paparazzi - to clear out of the store. When they do, one of the employees, a pretty mocha-skinned girl, asks me for my autograph. I give it to her before she goes.

Clary sighs. "Jace. That was...thank you." She looks like she wants to say more, but keeps her mouth shut.

"Of course." A bit of her curly red hair has escaped her ponytail and I reach out to tuck it behind her ear. My knuckles slide across her cheek and I feel her tense up. Her eyes are wide and so green, more precious than any stone mined from the earth. Her lips look so inviting - slightly open, rosy, and pouted. It's almost like she wants me to kiss her. I kind of want to kiss her too.

She shakes her head, throwing me out of my trance. What just happened? "I'm going to go talk to Simon. Thanks again." She gets up to leave and is gone, disappearing after Simon.

I get up and tuck the comic carefully under my arm before ducking out of the shop and onto the street. Doing this was a spur of the moment thing. But God, I feel so awful, and I don't know why. I just wish I had someone to talk to about it. But I'm not going to go crying about my feelings to anyone.

Except for Alec. Maybe.

I'm calling him up before I even decide to do it. He picks up on the third ring. "Jace." He sounds relieved. "What's up?"

"I...don't know."

Silence yawns between us, and then Alec speaks again. "Well, I have to say, you're doing a pretty good job. Between the speculation about your Central Park date and the comic thing, people are definitely beginning to forget about the antler stunt. Plus, Magnus Bane has officially put your interview on his calendar for a week and a half from now. Keep it up with Clary, at least until then."

"She hates me," I tell him, unable to keep the gloom out of my voice.

Alec sighs into the phone. "Jace, just because she isn't falling over your feet and worshipping the ground you walk on doesn't mean she hates you." He pauses. "Anyways, she has a boyfriend, remember?"

I swallow down the bitter taste in my mouth. "I remember."

* * *

 **I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH! Your reviews never cease to make me smile. My family asked me why I was sitting there smiling, and then decided that it must have something to do with the Mortal Instruments. They're not wrong! Haha. Sorry that this chapter is shorter than they usually are. I just got to the point in it when I decided it was over.**

 **But more to come. Wink wink.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Clary**

Simon is angry at me. I can feel it. Even though he tells me he's fine with the whole Jace situation, I can tell that he isn't, but there's nothing I can do to stop it. I feel like I'm trapped in a slow motion crash, watching as everything splinters and cracks around me.

I can still remember when he asked me out, how nervous he was. We had just gone to see a new _Star Wars_ movie, and we were listening to the credits roll and all of a sudden he just leaned in and kissed me. I really hadn't seen it coming. I never thought I'd get my first kiss like that. But it was sweet and gentle and _Simon_ , and his ears were red and so were his cheeks when he told me he wanted to call me his girlfriend.

So I got my second kiss that night too, and my third and fourth, and lots of the ones after. And now all of that is breaking apart.

It's not a good feeling.

"Clary. Hello? Earth to Clary!" I snap to attention, guiltiness written all over my face. Isabelle lounges on her velvet divan, drinking a cherry milkshake and letting her nails dry. "Have you been listening to anything I've been saying?"

I sigh. "Sorry, Iz."

She tilts her head as if analyzing me. "Clary, what's wrong? I was going to suggest going out but you look like you could use a girl's night in. Anyways, it can truly be a girl's night, because Simon is visiting his sister."

It's true. I feel like he scheduled the trip to get away from me. I nod my head. "That would be great, Izzy."

She claps her hands together. "Great. We can watch a movie and everything." She jumps up off of the divan and twirls, her dark hair flying out around her like an ebony banner. "Now go put something else on." She eyes my paint splattered jeans and old shirt before disappearing into her bedroom.

Truth is, I need a distraction from all of this. From Simon's distance, from the golden eyes stuck in the back of my mind. If anyone is good at distracting, it's Izzy. I go to my room and tug off my clothes, replacing them with a pair of dark green sleep shorts and Simon's favorite shirt - a gray one that says _Made in Brooklyn_ across the front. On last thought I tug on a pair of knitted white socks that Simon got me a couple of months ago.

God, what am I doing? He's not just my boyfriend. He's my best friend. I need him in my life, one way or another. I catch a glance at myself in my small mirror. My hair hangs in limp, tangled curls around my face. I angrily pull it up into a tight bun and shove a spare pencil through it to keep it up before making my way back to the main room.

Isabelle has her dark hair pulled away from her face in an elegant twist and wears a black satin shorts-and-top set underneath a pink silk kimono. It doesn't look very comfortable to me, but I suppose Izzy has expensive taste about everything - even pajamas.

I go into the icebox and grab a half-empty carton of ice cream - cherry with chocolate chips, Izzy's favorite. I snatch two spoons on the way out and we settle on the couch. She turns on the television and flips through Netflix, using the account of her long-been ex boyfriend. I'm not sure how many things Izzy owns she actually bought herself, and didn't just receive as gifts.

"What do you want to watch?" Izzy asks, tilting her head to the side.

I shrug. I'm not one for movies, or TV shows. Simon and I go and see sci-fi movies in theaters, but for the most part, I stick to my animes. Usually I watch whatever Simon and Izzy are watching. "Whatever you want."

Isabelle groans. "Clary, stop being so agreeable and tell me what you want to watch!"

"I'm serious, Iz. You choose."

She gives me a grin and flips gleefully through the movie selection, letting me veto her choices. She finally settles on a newer movie she insists is "hilarious" and "sexy," sounding in every way like an ad herself.

We're about fifteen minutes into the movie when I hear the knock at the door.

"Iz," I sigh. "Did you invite someone over?"

She looks as confused as I am. "No. I swear, if it's my ex again..." she trails off dangerously.

I don't bother to ask which ex.

I swing myself off of the couch. "I'll get it." I pad over to the door and swing it open with the lock-chain still engaged.

"Hey," says Jace with a grin, running his hand through his tousled gold curls.

I gasp. "What are you doing here? How do you know where I live?"

He checks his cuticles. "I looked in Alec's phone." He smirks at me. "Are you going to let me in?"

I'm about to say no when Isabelle comes up behind me. "Who is it-" she breaks off with a gasp. "Jace Herondale! Visiting this rathole apartment."

Before I can stop her, she pulls the door all the way open and he walks in, shoving his hands into the pockets of his black sweatshirt. Does he ever wear anything other than black? "I was going to take you out," Jace says to me. He eyes me and gives me a cocky grin. "But you're not exactly dressed for that."

My cheeks flame. "Would it have killed you to text?"

He shrugs nonchalantly. "Eh."

"Want to watch with us?" Isabelle gestures at the television. Her eyes are glimmering bright with excitement. Even though her brother manages Jace, she's only met him a few times.

Jace smiles. "Sure." Isabelle flings herself onto the divan, leaving the couch to me and Jace. Ouch. I will have to speak with her later. I slide the lock on the door back in place and settle on my end of the couch indignantly.

He leans over, and his breath ruffles my hair when he speaks. "Nice pajamas."

* * *

 **Jace**

I try to focus on the movie, but my eyes keep going back to Clary. I wasn't lying - she really doesn't look bad in her pajamas. Who knew anyone could make an overlarge shirt look good? Maybe it looks good because she isn't trying to make it look good. Because she doesn't know that it does.

I should try to let her know. And I would, if Alec's sister wasn't in the room.

The apartment, though small, is homey and kind of nice. The walls are a warm orange, like the color of the sunset, but paled down. Random photographs are pinned about, but they're too far away for me to make out what's in them. Pencils seem to be everywhere - on the tables, on the floor, stuck between the cushions of the couch. It seems to be the exact opposite of my impeccably clean suite - each cramped space is overflowing with personal mementos. A sketchbook here, a guitar pick there, a black bra hanging from the lamp in the corner. That probably belongs to Alec's sister too.

Isabelle keeps on making commentary throughout the movie, gasping at every scene change, and laughing unnecessarily loud at lines that are barely witty at all. Then again, I'm always able to see through other actor's charade-like acting. Clary is sipping soda from a can through a straw. Something about the whole scene makes me grin. I always thought I liked blondes the best, but maybe it's redheads. Redheads with curly hair. Redheads with curly hair and green, green eyes...

Clary catches me looking and glares at me. "What do you want?"

"Nothing," I say in a carefully neutral voice. But I can't help myself. Just as the ending credits begin to roll, I reach forwards and tickle her in the side. Clary shrieks and spills her soda down the front of her shirt. She looks up at me, seething.

"This isn't my shirt, you...butthead!"

I can't contain my laughter. In my periphery, Isabelle is trying to keep in her own giggles. "Butthead? My my, Clary. That's a real solid insult there."

She huffs angrily. "That isn't funny Jace! This is one of Simon's favorite shirts."

The smile melts quickly off of my face. The shirt is Simon's? I am suddenly very glad she spilled her drink on it. I don't like the idea of her wearing his clothes. But I can remedy that. I put my hands up, as if surrendering. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry. Here. Put this on instead."

I unzip my sweatshirt and toss it over to her. She gives me a sour look before pulling it on and zipping it up to her throat. Before shoving her hands through the sleeves, she reaches around inside the sweatshirt and pulls Simon's shirt out from underneath, muttering under her breath.

So now she's wearing my sweatshirt. And that's all.

It's almost enough to make me smile.

Anyways, she looks so much better in my sweatshirt than she did in Simon's shirt. It's big on her, of course, but endearingly so - it hangs low on her legs, going down past her shorts and resting comfortably at the middle of her upper leg. Her smooth legs... _Stop_ , I tell myself.

I clear my throat and look away. Isabelle is smirking at me, like she can read my thoughts. Who knows. Maybe she can. "Well, this has been fun," I say, standing up and dusting off my pants, though they are clean as usual. "I should go. Wouldn't want to overstay my welcome."

Isabelle grins at me and slides off of her divan. She looks like a bad idea wrapped into a pretty package - an offer I've been tempted by too many times than I care to admit. She twists her berry-stained lips into a coy smile. "Well feel free to stop by anytime," she says. "I'm sure Clary wouldn't mind."

Clary huffs from her spot on the couch. "Sure."

I commend her ability to inject sarcasm into a single word, something I've always prided myself on being good at. I throw her a grin and turn to the door. Isabelle lets me out, and I'm standing in the dark hallway.

Where was Simon? Did Clary break up with him? I quickly push that thought away. Why would she be wearing his shirt if she had? The image of Clary wearing my sweatshirt swims to the surface of my mind. I smile into the darkness.

If she manages to look good wearing that, I wonder how she looks when she puts in a little bit of effort.

It's official. I'm taking her out to dinner.

* * *

 **Hope you guys liked this chapter. Clary needs to improve on her insult game, but don't worry, she will. This is really a filler chapter, but drama is coming - and a new character, one of my favorites from the book. Actually, two people, who at one point were thought to be one...is that a hint enough? ;) BennieWaffles - Oh my goodness. I read your review and it made my cry. Thank you so much for your kind words, I'll try my hardest to live up to your expectations! Much love!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Clary**

I push out of the apartment, groaning as the sticky door refuses to close. I hate it when the hinges act up like this. I shove my shoulder against it a few times, but it doesn't budge. A three inch gap remains between the threshold and the door. Usually, Simon or Izzy can close it, but Simon is away and Izzy is at work. I shove the folder of comic sketches under my arm. I need to get them to the publishing company.

"Need help?" A voice sounds behind me and I jump a little before relaxing myself and turning around. A dark haired boy stands in the hallway, two bags of groceries in his arms. He sets them down against the wall of the hallway before walking over to me. "Mine gets stuck too. I just moved in here last week." He juts his chin towards the apartment across from ours.

I smile at him. "Thanks." He slams his shoulder to the door and it closes, the hinges groaning in complaint as they give. He pushes his dark hair our of his eyes with a crooked grin. His eyes are a peculiar color - so dark that they could be black. Or maybe they just look dark in contrast to his pale skin.

"I'm Sebastian. Sebastian Verlac." His voice carries a slight accent. I can't quite put my finger on it.

I push my curls from my face. "Clary Fairchild."

He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. "Well...glad to have been of assistance. I'll see you around." His accent is French. Definitely. It's so light that it's almost not there.

"Yeah, see you," I say softly as he picks up his bags and disappears into his apartment with one last smile. I secure the drawings in the crook of my arm and set off down the hallway.

* * *

I stop into Midtown Comics on my way home. Jordan greets me when I enter, looking like he always does - messy brown hair falling across his forehead, kind green eyes shining from a symmetrical face. "Hey, Clary!"

"Hi Jordan." I swing myself up onto the counter and sit. He pulls up a chair next to me and sits backwards on it, crossing his arms over the back.

He lifts an eyebrow at me. "So what happened? With Jace Herondale?"

I groan at him. "Geez, Jordan. I didn't take you for the gossipy type."

"Hey," he says, pointing a finger at me. "I'm asking for Maia."

I grin down at him, swinging my feet. "Oh, I see. Maia." Jordan's cheeks color. "What's going on between you two?"

"Nothing," he replies. "But I asked first."

"Nothing," I tell him, echoing his answer.

Jordan's eyebrows lift. "You're really going to say nothing? Clary, come on." He pulls out his phone and types something before passing it to me. My throat dries up.

It's pictures of me and Jace. Walking through the park, sitting on a bench, laughing about something. I frown at Jordan. "So you are a gossip. Is that _E!_ news?"

He shrugs. "Never mind that. But seriously. Are you and Simon breaking up?"

A flash of worry shoots down my spine. Are we? I don't think so. But he hasn't texted me much since he's been away, and he's obviously not happy about the Jace situation. "No," I say, a little too quickly and loudly. "Why would you ever say that? What makes you think that?"

"Woah, Clary," Jordan says. "I didn't mean to hit a nerve. I'm just curious."

I look around the shop. We're the only ones here. I sigh. "Okay. I'll tell you, but you really can't tell anybody else. I'm pretending to date Jace so he can put on the act of having his life together."

Jordan looks surprised. "Did you apply for this job?"

I scowl at him. "No, of course not. It's a favor for a friend."

"Well...Simon knows about it, right?"

"Yes," I say softly. "But he doesn't like it at all."

Jordan's eyebrows pull together. "Well, it is a little strange." The store bell jingles merrily and I look up to see Maia pushing her way in through the door. Her cheeks are flushed from the cool breeze. His eyes follow her to the storeroom, where she disappears behind a door.

"You like her, don't you," I say.

He grins sheepishly. "Is it really that obvious?"

I shrug. "A bit. You should just ask her out if you do. I'm sure she'll say yes."

"Maybe," says Jordan. Maia walks back in, her thick curls pulled back into a ponytail.

"What are you two talking about?" she asks.

Jordan looks alarmed. I grin. "Not much."

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and see a single text lighting up the screen.

 _From: Jace Herondale_

 _I'll pick you up at 8. Wear something nice._

* * *

 **Jace**

I knock on the door to Clary's apartment. It's exactly eight. I've been out here for seven minutes, but didn't want to show up so early, so I've been hovering outside the door and idling. I have our whole night planned. I hope Clary likes everything. I check my outfit one more time - a black button up with black slacks. I undo another button on my shirt. I don't want to look like I'm trying too hard. On second thought, I roll the sleeves of my shirt up to my elbows as well. The door swings open and Clary stands in front of me, looking unsure.

Unsure of what, I have no idea. She looks _beautiful._ She's wearing a silvery silk dress that hangs loosely over her figure, which is somehow more teasing than a tight dress would be. She's got flats on, so she's still short, and her curls are pinned up expertly about her head. She smirks. "Like what you see?"

I must have been staring. "Let's go," I say, not bothering to answer her question.

We walk down the street, patterned by street lamps and the lights spilling from storefronts. "So where are you taking me?"

Her eyes are so bright. They shine in the dim light. "We're going to dinner," I tell her. "And the rest is a surprise." On impulse, I reach forwards and pull the pins from her hair, pocketing them. She looks quizzically up at me. I lean in so my lips are right next to her ear. "I like your hair better that way," I murmur.

She shivers as I lean back and I grin. We reach the restaurant and eat, making small talk and ignoring the cameras that come and go throughout the meal. After I pay the check, we're back on the dark street. I sneak my hand down and wrap it around hers.

"So? What's the surprise?" She hasn't pulled her hand from mine. I grin as we continue to walk.

"Come with me."

I take her to Prospect Park. It's dark and almost deserted - a few people still walk the paths. I kneel down next to a garden patch and point. "Look."

She crouches beside me and stares at the little white flowers that open their pearly petals to the moon. "They're beautiful," she says softly. _So are you._

"They only bloom at night."

Clary smiles at them. "I've never seen them before." I watch her lips as she speaks.

I think back to the way Simon kissed Clary, the way he held her hips and gently drew her towards him in a dreamlike trance. Maybe he always treats her like that, like she's so fragile that he's afraid he'll break her. But she's not made of glass. She's strong, and beautiful - _Stop,_ I remind myself.

A rush of a bitter cold feeling shoots down my spine. She chews her lip thoughtfully while staring at the garden. My eyes flick down to her lips - soft and rosy. I clench my jaw. I wonder what it would feel like to kiss her.

I try to shove the images from my head, but they remain. Stupid Simon. Where did he come from, anyways? What's so great about some big nerd like him? I grit my teeth. Clary turns to look at me. "I should get back," she says. Is there a tinge of regret in her voice? I shake my head. Maybe I'm just hearing what I want to hear. But do I want to hear that?

I realize I shook my head at a strange time. "Yeah. Okay, I'll walk you."

We leave the park. She walks half a step ahead of me, bits of her copper hair dancing on the breeze. I feel an itch to touch her hair but keep my hands balled firmly behind my back. "This is a shortcut," she says to me, pointing down a long alleyway. The path is thin and paved with brick.

We turn down into the path, the bricks uneven under our feet. Before I can process what's happening, Clary trips on an swath of lumpy ground and falls forward with a small gasp - a gasp that I quickly silence by pressing her mouth to mine.

Her lips are unbelievably soft and fit perfectly to mine. She tastes faintly of coffee and smells of something light and sweet. I slide my hands down to her waist and spin her so her back is against the wall, pressing her to the hard surface with my body. She is warm, and small, and fits perfectly against me. Is it just my imagination, or is she sighing into the kiss? _I can show her,_ says the gleeful voice in my head, _all the things that Simon would never have the guts to do._

My pulse hammers in my fingertips as I press them into her dress, the silk smooth and cool under my hands, pulling her flush against me. I part her lips with my own and tilt my head to get better access to her mouth, letting myself get lost in her softness -

And she shoves me away from her with a strangled cry. "Jace!" she yells. "Why would you - what - no!" She shakes her head, her wild curls bouncing around her shoulders. Her lips are kiss-swollen. I want to kiss them again, kiss them until they bruise.

"I don't know," I reply, a bitter feeling filling my chest.

She glares at me. Her eyes are wet. "We agreed," she says in a shaking voice. "We were never going to do...to do _this._ " She gestures furiously between us.

I open my mouth to answer, but the sound of footsteps interrupts me. A cameraman leaving the alley.

He must have gotten the kiss on camera.

Clary lets out a sob and shoves me again, my shoulder scraping against the wall. "You," she gasps, tears escaping her eyes, " _insufferable_ asshole. Simon is going to see those!"

The bitter feeling turns to anger in my chest. "But you liked it," I snap. "Don't act like it was all me. You kissed me back -"

"Shut up! Just shut up!" screams Clary. She shakes her head at me. "I don't think I can do this anymore. Just - just stay away from me."

And she's gone.

I lean back against the cold wall and grit my teeth. God. I'm such a fucking idiot. I had to go and ruin everything, again. I pull back my fist and slam it into the wall, relishing the pain as my knuckles crack and blood springs from my skin. Anything to take away the bite of pain in my chest, as small and deadly as being stabbed in the heart with a knife.

* * *

 **Wow, that was an emotional roller coaster. But what will Jace do now? If Clary backs out of the agreement, what will happen with Magnus Bane? Hm. We'll have to see. I hope you all liked this chapter! I think it was one of my favorites I've written so far. One of Clary's family members will be coming into the story very soon...haha. As usual, leave a review if you liked it!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Clary**

I burst back into the apartment, trying to calm my erratic breathing. Why would Jace do that? He knows that this is just an arrangement. He _knows_ that, but he kissed me anyways. A sob rises in my throat when Simon's face swims into my mind. Am I a cheater? What am I supposed to tell him?

I enter my bedroom and freeze in the doorway. Simon sits on my bed with an ashen face. "Simon," I whisper.

He shakes his head at me. "Clary," he says in a strangled voice. He's cradling his phone in his hands like it's something dangerous. There's a picture pulled up on the screen - a couple in an alleyway, locked in a kiss. The memory of Jace's lips on mine flood through my mind again.

"It was all him," I burst out. "He kissed me, and then I pushed him away."

"When I told you," he says quietly, "that I loved you. You didn't say it back."

My mind flies back to the day he said it. "Simon!" I gasp. "You know that I do. That I love-"

"Don't say it!" he yells, standing with his hands balled into fists at his sides. "Don't say those words."

Tears spark in my eyes, and my whole face feels flushed and hot. "But I do, Simon. Please listen to me." _Do you really?_ muses the voice in my head. I furiously ignore it.

His eyes are wet behind his glasses. "You don't mean it like I do when you say it," he says softly, sadness lacing his tone. "And after all this time - after spending years of my life loving you in silence - you've never felt the same."

"Yes, I do," I cry, reaching out for him. He twists out of my arms and stands in the hallway.

"You don't have to lie to me Clary," he says. "I get it, okay? That I'm not the best option. I'm not rich or famous. All I've got is a little comic shop and a dingy apartment in _Brooklyn_." Loathing has entered his voice.

I frantically run my hands through my hair. "Simon, that's always been enough for me. You know that it has. I don't care about money, or fame, or any of that. I care about _you_." He shakes his head.

Simon doesn't meet my eyes. "I hope you know," he tells me quietly, "the kind of guy _Jace Herondale_ is. Because you don't seem to get it. He'll mess around with you, but he won't care about you, and when you get boring he'll move on to the next one."

I open my mouth to reply to him, but he shuts the door and I'm alone in my bedroom. I throw myself down onto the bed and scream into my pillow, until my throat burns and no more sound comes out. I can't breathe, so I roll my head to the side, and pull the pillow between my arms. My breaths scratch on the way out, but I can't look away from the door where Simon disappeared.

God, how stupid I've been. How could I even think that pretending to date Jace would be consequence free? I never was one to keep up with celebrity gossip, but everyone knows how he is. Wasn't this the reason he needed a fake girlfriend in the first place? To crush the accusations of his shacking up with any girl who looked his way?

And now I've hurt Simon. He's been there for me for as long as I can remember. I can still remember the day we met. It was the first day of kindergarten, and I hadn't gone to preschool like the rest of the kids. I was so nervous, since I'd never been to school before, and I cried when my mom left. Then Simon came over to me and offered me half of his snack cake and sat with me, that day and every day after.

Almost all of my memories have Simon in them. What if he never forgives me? I'll be alone. I feel the tears coming on again and scrub furiously at my eyes. I hear the door to the apartment slam shut, and I know that he's gone. I could go after him, but it's obvious that he doesn't want to see me. I stand, as if in a trance, and make my way to the kitchen.

Isabelle keeps her stash of alcohol under the sink. I know she won't mind if I drink some. It's not like she isn't always trying to make me let loose and live a little, right? I select the first bottle I see and pour myself a cup. I take a big sip and choke, coughing as the liquid burns it's way down my throat. I rarely drink, and I've never had anything this strong. Even so, I finish the glass and top off another.

As I let the fuzziness cloud my mind, I still can't get rid of the ghost of Jace's lips on mine, or the brilliant gold of his eyes. My hands seek my phone by themselves, and the number to the only person I can trust pops up on my phone.

He answers on the fourth ring. "Clary?"

"Jon," I sob into the phone. "I messed up."

* * *

 **Jace**

God. I know that she liked it, and that's the worst part. I bet stupid Simon's never kissed her like that. He treats her like a glass doll, like if he pushes too hard she'll break. And now, because I'm an idiot, I'll never get to kiss her again.

And the thing is, usually when I get a girl this mad at me, I don't care. She's always just another face yelling at me and telling me how much of a dick I am, and how she never wants to see me again. But for some reason, this time I do care, and I have no idea how to fix this. I've never wanted to make a girl like me again. But something about Clary is so different than all of the other girls I've been with.

I ball my hands into fists and push my shoulders back against the brick wall of the building across from her apartment building. Should I go up there and talk to her? What would I even say if I did? What am I supposed to do?

Whatever it is, I need to do it. I cross the street, cutting in front of a taxi, which veers away from me with an angry wail. I barely hear it. I can barely hear anything, with the blood pounding in my ears. I'm about to walk into the building when I crash into someone, sending both of us staggering backwards. I look up and see the one person in the world I don't want to see at the moment.

"Herondale," snaps Simon. "What are you doing here?" I study his face. His eyes are rimmed with red, and his hair hangs limply across his forehead. Something happened. _And it's my fault._

I scowl at him. "I'm here to see Clary."

Simon's eyes flash. "She came home crying because of what you did," he snarls. His lip curls. "The last person she wants to talk to right now would be you."

"And how do you know that?" I fire back, feeling the familiar thrum of anger in my chest. "Do you speak for her now? She doesn't get her own voice?"

He shakes his head at me. "Don't act like you care about her at all. If you have a _shred_ of compassion, you won't play her like you do everyone else. I don't care how famous you are. You have no right messing with Clary like that."

The words strike me. Does he think I don't care? Does _Clary_ think I don't care? "I don't know what you're talking about," I snap.

"Everything was fine." Simon's voice is small and tight. "Then you showed up. She was happy, before you came in, and ever since you've been in her life, she's been miserable." He sighs, the anger fading from his expression, replaced by a look of resignation. "I've known Clary for almost my entire life. I know her better than anyone else. The best thing you can do for her is leave her alone."

With that, Simon turns and walks off down the street, his hands shoved into his pockets and his head down. I haven't felt guilty in a long time, but I feel it now. Simon clearly cares about her. Have I really screwed things up for her? I hope not. But hope doesn't get you anywhere.

I look at the scabbing cuts on my knuckles and frown. Maybe he's right. Maybe if I just leave Clary alone, it will be better for both of us. I still haven't forgotten my father's words from when I was a kid - that to love is to destroy, and that to be loved is to be the one destroyed. I've tried to live by those words for my whole life, and this is the closest I've ever come to straying from them.

So as much as I hate to say it, Simon is right. It will be better for the both of us if I stay far away from her. I trudge into the local convenience store. The sputtering lights above my head light up the dingy shop. There's only a couple of other people in here, and none of them look like people who would bother to recognize me. I quickly grab a few bandages and a bottle of water. I walk up to the counter, where a woman wearing too much blue eyeshadow has her earbuds in and turned up so loud I can hear her music too. I knock on the glass separating us and she jolts her head up, tugging out her earbuds. The music stops.

"You ready to check out, honey?" she asks in a voice touched by too many cigarettes. Her accent is very strong and very Brooklyn.

I nod my head and shove my items forwards. She looks up at me and laughs a little, a sound like paper being crumpled. "You're a pretty boy," she rasps. "Look just like on of 'em boys from the movies. And got such nice eyes."

She rings up my items. I don't reply. I don't know what I would say if I did. The hollow feeling in my chest continues to expand. "Here you go." The woman slides the bag full of my purchases forwards.

"Thanks," I mutter.

Before I can go, she reaches a hand forwards and clamps it around my wrist. Each nail is painted neon orange, but they're chipped and slightly grown out. "You know, you look just like that one boy my daughter likes. Jace 'erondale."

I'm really not in the mood for this. "I get that a lot," I say, my patience wearing thin.

She smiles. Her teeth are smoke stained. "She's a real cute girl, my daughter. You'd like 'er." The woman pulls a cell phone out of the pocket of her acid washed jeans and holds it up. "Mind if I take your picture? I'll tell 'er it was really 'erondale."

I can already see that she'll take one even if I say no, so I sigh. "Sure."

She holds up the cell phone and snaps a picture. "Drop in anytime, pretty boy," she tells me, finally releasing my wrist from her grasp.

"We'll see," I reply, shaking out my wrist and leaving the store. The streets are lit by lamps, but a few of them are out. As my eyes adjust, I can't help it when every flash of green, whether it be a sign or a tag on a wall, reminds me of Clary's eyes.

* * *

 **I'm sorry if that chapter was kind of boring, but here it is. Oh well. I'm not sure how I feel about this one. But I feel that it was necessary to the story. Does anyone here listen to Off Bloom? They're my absolute favorite band and I can't stop listening to their album! You guys should all go check them out. As usual, if you liked the chapter, leave me a review :) Thanks for reading!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Clary**

"It's been a while, little sis," says Jon, wrapping me in a hug. I inhale deeply. He smells like he usually does, the classic Jon smell - mint and spice and the faintest touch of tobacco smoke. He kicked that habit years ago, but the smell still lingers around him.

I smile into his shoulder. "Yes, it has." I pull back out of his embrace and smile weakly up at him. He looks almost exactly like our dad, something that used to unsettle me; silver blonde hair falling stylishly across his forehead, an angular jaw, and a tall frame. He has our mother's green eyes and long fingers, though.

He frowns a little. "Are you okay? You sounded really upset over the phone."

I sigh and pull down the sleeves of my green sweater so they hide my hands. "I just...made some bad decisions, and I think I may have lost my best friend."

"Simon?" Jon's eyebrows lift in a sympathetic way. "Oh, Clary. Here, find some seats for us and I'll get us some coffee. You still take yours black?"

I nod my head and look around the crowded cafe for a place for us to sit. It's my favorite coffee shop, a little hole in the wall called Java Jones. They make a mean espresso, and the old leather seats around the shop make for cozy seating. Simon and I come here a lot. Sometime's Simon's friend does poetry readings here. Though, those days might be over. I bite my lip and spot two empty seats in the corner of the shop and sit down in one, watching Jon in line.

He was always the fashionable one of the two of us. Even in the rough times, he's always looked presentable - styled hair, shaven jaw, clothes that are on trend. I was the messy one growing up, the girl who was known as Jon's sister.

It never made me angry, though. Jon's always looked out for me. He walks over to the table and sets a blue mug full of dark liquid in front of me, along with a snickerdoodle cookie - my favorite. He's never liked coffee, and holds a mug of tea instead.

"Alright," he says. "Tell me what happened."

I do. I unload all of it onto him - the favor for Isabelle, the way Jace helped out Midtown Comics, how he kissed me and how Simon reacted. By the end of it all, my eyes are getting wet again, and my hands are shaking. I wrap my fingers around my mug to still them. "That's a lot, little sis," Jon says.

"What am I supposed to do?" I ask him, looking down into my coffee.

Jon sighs and twists the ring on his pinkie finger. I don't know why he still wears that old thing. "That's a mess," he admits. "But I'm just going to ask you, straight up. Do you even want to date Simon anymore?"

How do I feel about this? I miss Simon - God do I miss him. But I miss him as a best friend far more than I miss him as a boyfriend. When I was with Jace, I didn't worry about our relationship. I worried about losing him as my best friend. I bury my head in my hands. This is too confusing. "I don't know," I murmur.

I feel Jon's hand on my wrist. He draws my hands away from my eyes. "Hey, it's fine. And I'm back in New York now, so call me anytime you need anything." He frowns. "I'm in a hotel for now, but I'm looking for a place to move in."

"Thanks, Jon." I smile feebly.

He grins at me. "You've always had me wrapped around your little finger."

* * *

I fumble for my keys to the apartment, my pulse hammering in my throat. I haven't talked to Simon since our argument yesterday, but he'll probably be home. What am I supposed to say to him? I open the door, feeling sick, and stop in my tracks.

Isabelle and Simon stand in the middle of the living room, unaware of my presence. He's got her wrapped in his arms, and he's kissing her like he never kissed me, hard and insistent. I gasp and they break apart. Simon's eyes widen when he sees me. "Clary. I thought you were visiting your brother." _Was this going on while we were dating? Was Simon_ cheating _on me?_

I gape at them, unable to form words. Simon and _Isabelle?_ Glamorous, beautiful, high standard Isabelle? "Does this mean we're over?" is all that I manage to get out, and even then, my voice is so quiet I can barely hear it at all.

"This just happened," says Isabelle, her cheeks flushed a bright red. "I swear, Clary, I thought you two were over-"

"It's fine," I say in a small voice. "Who am I to talk, right?" I turn on my heel before either of them can say anything else and head into my bedroom. Efficiently and methodically, I begin packing clothes into a backpack, along with my sketchbook, phone charger, and toothbrush and toothpaste. I have no idea where I'm going, but I can't be here. Not right now.

When I turn around, backpack hanging from my shoulders, Simon blocks the doorway. "Clary," he says, his eyebrows drawn together.

"Excuse me," I reply, pushing past him. I make my way to the door, ignoring Simon and Isabelle's voices behind me. As soon as the door shuts, I realize I don't even want to cry. I just kind of feel like...nothing.

"Clary?" says a voice behind me. I whip around to see the new neighbor, Sebastian.

"Sebastian," I reply weakly.

He looks worried. "Are you okay?" His eyes flick to my backpack. "Do you need a place to stay?"

In my head, I hear Jon's voice, telling me that Sebastian is a stranger, that he could be an ax murderer for all I know, that I can't trust him. But I'm in the mood to make bad decisions. I nod.

* * *

 **Jace**

"What the hell happened to you?" asks Alec. He narrows his blue eyes at me with a frown. I sink down into my chair. Alec came over with a packet of questions I might get asked by Magnus Bane, but I have yet to glance at them. We sit in the chairs by my window. The Manhattan skyline glimmers beyond, bright even at night.

"Well," I say tiredly, "I'd say the arrangement with Clary is now over."

He lifts his eyebrows, but looks almost...relieved. "What did you do to mess it up?

Anger sparks in my chest. "What do you mean, what did I do? How is it my fault? Why would you just assume that?" I know I'm being irrationally angry, but I can't help it.

Alec just sighs. I suppose he's used to me. "I was just asking. Fine, would you like me to phrase it differently?"

"Shoot."

"What happened?"

I frown at him. "Do you really want to know?"

Alec throws his hands up, exasperated. "Well, if you aren't going to tell me then -"

"I kissed her," I interrupt.

His eyes widen. "Jace, why would you do that? She has a boyfriend. You _know_ she has a boyfriend."

Why _did_ I kiss Clary? I think back to the moment, seeing her trip, pulling her against me and kissing her until my mind ran blank. I don't think I even made a conscious decision to do it. She just looked so beautiful, and her lips looked so inviting, and she made me feel different and worthy..."I don't know," I say back.

Alec rubs his eyes with the back of his hand. He looks tired. "Look, Jace," he says. "Maybe this was a bad idea. But even if it didn't last, at least it improved your image. And hey, you still have your meeting with Magnus Bane."

"Yeah," I say, my voice flat and hard.

His eyes narrow. "What's wrong?"

"What am I supposed to do?" I burst at him. He looks surprised but doesn't speak, so I continue. "With...with Clary. What am I supposed to say to her? God, do you think I messed everything up?"

"You actually care," says Alec, looking amazed. I want to punch him. "That's new."

I scowl at him. "What do you mean? I care about tons of things."

Alec lifts an eyebrow. "Okay."

I can't stand just sitting here anymore. I stand and begin to pace. "Nothing you're saying is helping at all. You do realize that, don't you?"

"I just don't think I'm someone you should be taking advice about girls from," Alec says quietly.

I can't help it - I laugh. "Alec, is this what that's about? If girls won't date you, I can fix that. Come on. Let's go out."

Alec looks as if he may be sick at any moment. "Jace, no," he protests weakly. "That's really _really_ not what I meant."

"Come on. You need to let loose and it will be fun." _And I need to forget about a certain redhead._ I cross my arms over my chest. "Alec, I'm really not about to take no for an answer." I laugh again and pull him to his feet.

He shakes his head. "You're not getting it," he mutters. I can't tell whether he meant to say it or not, or if it was meant for my ears. I run a hand through my hair.

"Let's go."

* * *

At this point, everyone on the dance floor is so drunk that they don't even care that I'm Jace Herondale. And I'm not going to pretend that I'm not drunk, either. It's a nice escape, I have to say. A dark haired girl leans in close to my ear, stumbling on her high heeled shoes. "You're hot," she yells into my ear over the loud music in the club. I turn my head to find Alec in the flashing lights. He's sitting alone at the bar.

I could kiss her, and I know she wouldn't resist. But I don't even feel like it. _Why don't I feel like it?_

"Thanks," I tell the girl, and flash her one of my winning smiles. "You see my friend over there by the bar? His name is Alec, and he's looking for some company. Do a favor for me and go talk to him?"

She turns and looks at him and winks at me before pushing through the crowd to go to him. In my periphery, I see a flash of red hair. My blood turns to ice in my veins and I whip around. There's a girl with her back to me, wearing a short, skintight black dress and tall heeled boots. And her hair is fiery red and curly, a familiar sight.

She's dancing against a tall blonde boy. _A boy who isn't you or Simon,_ snarls the voice in my head. Something about the sight makes me feel sick and guilty and murderously angry. My vision goes white. I feel the blood pounding in my veins as I shove through the crowd and grab her shoulder, wrenching her away from the boy. "Clary-" I start, before pausing.

"What the hell?" snaps the girl. It isn't Clary at all. Her curls are more stylized, not natural, and she's much taller than her. I must be drunker than I thought.

"You got a problem, bud?" growls the boy she was dancing with. I scowl at him and turn away, catching sight of Alec once again. He's still sitting at the bar, but the dark haired girl is talking to him now. She leans in close to his face, and I can see his panicked expression from here.

 _Oh,_ I think, feeling insanely stupid. _Alec is gay._

* * *

 **Jace! Be careful, your jealousy is showing. Also, I thought it might be fun to do a bit of a moment of realization for the clueless Jacey boy about Alec. Hm, I wonder what will happen when Jace and Alec meet Magnus ;) New things are in store for Clary as well. Here's a hint: friendships aren't ruined so easily, and trust needs to be earned over time. I'm a little sad right now - I dropped my big brother off at college yesterday. I'm an only child now, it's weird! Thanks so much for reading! If you liked it, leave a review. See you next time!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Clary**

I wake with my face pressed into a pillow that smells of clean laundry. I sit up from an unfamiliar couch to see a room filled with half-unpacked boxes, and a newspaper covered with mug-rings on a coffee table. I shove my curls out of my face and push a light blue blanket off of my legs. I'm wearing my t-shirt and sweatpants that are sizes too big - Sebastian's. He offered me his bed, saying he'd sleep on the couch, but I wouldn't let him do that. The other bedrooms don't have beds in them, so it was the couch or the floor.

"Do you want some breakfast?" says a voice. I turn my head to see Sebastian coming out of the apartment kitchen. He must have been up for a while - he's already dressed in jeans and a gray sweater, and his hair is wet like he just got out of the shower.

The air smells pleasantly of porridge and coffee. "Sure," I reply, rolling off of the couch and making my way into the kitchen.

His apartment is nearly identical to mine, with the same cheap fridge and appliances and ugly linoleum floor in the kitchen. A pot of porridge steams on the stove top, and a coffeemaker sits on the counter along with a few mugs. "Haven't found a roommate yet, huh," I observe.

"Not yet," says Sebastian. "I put up an add online, but nobody's replied to it yet."

Jon's comments pop into my head - he's looking for a place in New York to stay. "My brother," I say suddenly. "He's apartment searching. I can give you his number if you'd like."

Sebastian grins and lifts an eyebrow. "You'd be okay with your brother living across the hall from you?" He pushes a mug of coffee to me. "Milk or sugar?"

"No thanks. And yeah, of course."

He shakes his head. "It's great that you've got such a good relationship with your brother, then," he says. "I can't imagine living close to my sister. She wouldn't want me around, I don't think."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I say softly. I can't imagine a life without Jon only one call or text away.

"It's old news," Sebastian replies. He takes a sip of his coffee. "So, you don't have to answer, but I can't say I'm not curious. Why aren't you staying in your apartment?"

I frown. I'm not sure I really want to tell anyone, but Sebastian is a stranger. And I can leave out names, right? I take a deep breath and begin. "Well...I was dating my roommate," I explain, feeling awkward. "And as a favor to my other roommate, I was pretending to date this guy. But he knew about the fake relationship, and he was okay with it." _Not really._ "But the guy I was pretending to date kissed me, and my boyfriend saw it, and then I walked in last night to see my roommates kissing."

Sebastian frowns. "That's awful of them." He sets down his mug and steps forwards towards me. "They should apologize."

I take in Sebastian's angular features, his midnight eyes and dark hair. He's like the opposite of Jace, where everything is gold - gold skin and eyes and hair. But I don't _want_ to think about Jace. I never want to think about him again. He ruined everything - right? Or were me and Simon already on the road to a breakup? I can't remember. "Maybe," I say softly. "Though maybe it was my fault."

"Of course not," says Sebastian. "From what I've heard, you're a good and loyal friend, and don't deserve what they did to you." He reaches out and tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear.

I lean into his hand, shoving the image of Jace out of my mind. I _will not_ think of him. I can prove it - prove that I don't want Jace. "Sebastian," I murmur, and that must be all the invitation he needs to lean in and press his lips to mine.

He tastes like coffee and licorice, and his hair is soft and damp beneath my fingers. I keep my mind completely focused on him - the stitches in his sweater, the feeling of his hair, the softness of his mouth - to keep out other thoughts. He runs a finger down the side of my jaw, tracing the side of my throat. I gasp and he deepens the kiss, biting softly at my bottom lip.

It's slow and heated and wonderfully intense. Simon and I never did anything like this - it's a completely new experience. His tongue flicks lightly against mine and I almost gasp again - I would, if his mouth wasn't in the way.

His lips trace down my neck, following the path of his finger. My eyes flutter shut just as he pulls away. "Sorry," he says, sounding a bit panicked. "I promise I didn't mean to - I mean, I didn't -"

I shut him up with another kiss, this one less heated and more sweet and soft. "You're fine," I tell him with a small smile.

Relief floods his expression. "I just don't want to come across as pushing you into anything," he says. "I mean, we barely know each other." A set of golden eyes in my memories burns into my mind again - I shove them away.

"There's time for that," I say in what I hope is a flirty voice. I've only ever had one boyfriend, so flirting is not my strong suit. I've watched Izzy do it enough times, though, so I shouldn't be too awful at it.

He smiles and loops his hands around my waist. "Is this okay? I know you just got out of your relationship."

"It was already ending," I lie, tilting my head back a bit so I can look up at him. "I need something new."

Sebastian grins. "I am very glad I moved into this apartment," he tells me. I stand up on my tiptoes to press another kiss to his lips, trying to kiss away the ghost of Jace's lips on mine.

* * *

 **Jace**

"Don't you think it's weird that we're meeting at his loft?" I complain to Alec.

He lifts an eyebrow at me. "I told you that Magnus Bane has eccentric tastes. Now remember - be on your absolute best behavior. You need-"

"I need this job," I interrupt. "Yeah, I know."

He knocks on the door of the loft that must contain Magnus Bane. From what I've heard, he's strange and outlandish in almost every way possible. Alec rolls up the too-long sleeves of his washed out sweater while we wait for the door to open. "Who calls upon the wonderful Magnus Bane?" booms a voice from behind the door. I shoot a long look at Alec.

"Jace Herondale and his manager, Alec Lightwood," I call through the door.

It sweeps open to reveal a man. Saying he has eccentric taste would be an understatement. He wears shiny black pants with a deeply necked purple shirt, and a black velvet housecoat inlaid with gold patterns over the top. His feet are bare and his eyelids shimmer with enough glitter to make a disco ball jealous. His hair sticks up around his head in stylized points, the tips of which are varying shades of blue. "Oh," he says, grinning at Alec. "Christmas came early this year."

"What...what?" Alec says, looking mortified.

"Magnus Bane," I say, to save Alec from his own awkwardness. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

He casts his eyes on me for the first time. They're a peculiar color - greenish yellow, like a cat's. "Jace Herondale," he says back. "I did not know that your manager was quite so pleasant to the eye."

Alec's cheeks turn a bright crimson. Magnus smiles. "Shall we begin? I suppose you can come in. I always say, it's better to drink with others than to drink alone." He drops a glittering wink at Alec before turning back into the loft.

"Are you okay?" I ask Alec, whose shocked face resembles a fish, or perhaps an unconscious raccoon. He nods and we enter the loft, closing the door behind us.

The loft is decorated with draping colored silks and artfully placed things from around the world. The furniture is mixed and matched, shabby chic. Magnus lounges easily on a chaise almost as glittery as he is. "Please, sit," he says, motioning around the room. "I'll pour the drinks."

He clearly already has. A bright blue cocktail dangles from his ringed and painted fingers, and two more sit on a glass top table in the center of the room. I pass one to Alec and we sit awkwardly side by side on a purple satin couch. "So, about the movie..." I start.

Magnus waves his hand at me dismissively. "The role is yours if you want it. As long as you bring your delicious manager along." He brings his drinks to his lips and takes a long sip, staring at Alec all the while.

"Oh. Um, sounds good then," I say. Wasn't it supposed to be harder than this? I sneak a glance at Alec, but he's staring back at Magnus. He seems to realize I'm looking at me and gives me a slight and noncommittal shrug.

Magnus smiles lazily. "So, tell me everything about my little biscuit and how she is," he says, looking back at me.

"Biscuit?" I repeat, at a loss for words.

He lifts an eyebrow. "Don't act like you have no idea what I'm talking about. Dear little Clary Fairchild. How is she?"

My mouth drops open, and I quickly shut it. Magnus and Clary know each other? Glittery, crazy Magnus with his shiny pants, knows my Clary? _Not yours,_ I remind myself bitterly. "You know Clary?"

Magnus laughs. "I watched her grow up. I was great friends with her brother, and when their parents died they moved in with me." His gaze wanders back over to Alec, who is sitting with a completely rigid back.

"Her parents are dead?" I ask, feeling stupid. I don't know her well, I guess. I don't really know her at all.

Magnus folds a hand over his mouth. "Oops. I guess I could have _not_ said that. But since I already did, yes. When she was nine and her brother was twelve, her father killed her mother, and then himself. Horrible business."

Clary's dad _killed_ her mom? I try to imagine being nine years old and knowing that my father murdered my mother. I can't even wrap my mind around it. My eyes drift down to the scabs on my knuckles, left over from punching the wall after I kissed Clary. Each cut has a name, the same name - _Clary, Clary, Clary._

"I didn't know," I say softly.

"Well, it isn't one of her favorite topics," says Magnus as if it's obvious. "Now answer my question."

What did he ask? Oh, right. How she is. "Well...we aren't exactly...together anymore," I say, ignoring the pain in my chest at the words.

Magnus scoffs. "Waht do you mean, 'not together?' Found someone better, did she?" He looks over to Alec. "Someone handsome and young with dark hair and blue eyes?"

"I'm not dating Clary," says Alec quickly.

"Well," says Magnus. "In that case, we should grab a drink sometime."

Alec looks dumbfounded. His fingers worry at the sleeves of his sweater. "Yes. I mean, sure. When?"

Magnus' eyes drift to the watch on his wrist. "Tonight?" he suggests.

"Okay. Yeah. Great," says Alec.

Magnus grins at him. "You know my number." He turns back to me, his strange eyes alight with sudden seriousness. "Herondale," he says. "I love Clary like a sister. If you 'aren't exactly together anymore' because of something awful you've done to her..." He grins a catike grin. "Well, let's just say I'd prefer if we remained friends. Anyways, you should talk to her. She's a very forgiving person."

Even though Magnus is crazier than a bear on bath salts, he's right.

I need to talk to Clary.

* * *

 **Introducing Magnus Bane, everyone. *Applause* I tried to make him every bit as wonderful as I could. Hm, could there be Malec on the rise? ;) Stick around! I promise there's some jealousy on the Clace front on the rise...and not just on Jace's part. Leave me a review if you liked the chapter!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Clary**

Sebastian squeezes my hand in a comforting way as I unlock the door to my apartment. "Come in in a couple minutes," I tell him. "I need to talk to Simon and Isabelle."

"Are you going to be okay?" he asks, his eyebrows pulling together.

I give him what I hope is a convincing smile. "Of course." I push into the apartment, letting the door shut behind me. Simon sits on the couch in his usual spot, and his eyes widen when he sees me.

"Clary! Thank God. We had no idea where you were and you weren't answering any of our texts - are you okay?" I brush off his concern with an easy smile.

"I'm fine, Simon. But we need to talk."

He nods and stands from the couch, pushing his hands down the sides of his legs - one of the things he does when he's anxious. I roll my eyes at him. "Simon, sit down." I toss myself down on the couch next to him and sigh. "So. What's going on with Izzy?"

He twists his hands together in his lap. "Well, I guess it was just a spur of the moment thing. I wasn't cheating on you," he adds, shooting a glance at me from the corner of his eye. "But...well, you know, she's beautiful, and then we were just...kissing."

"I'm happy for you," I tell him, and I mean it. He looks over at me in surprise and I laugh. "Come on, Simon. I'll always have your back and I support you no matter what. Still best friends?" I ask, my voice faltering a little at the end.

Simon grins. "Always. You can't get rid of me that easily, Fairchild." And then we're hugging, and I don't want to let go of him because I've missed him so much. Relief courses through me. "And I have your back too," he murmurs into my ear. "Whatever you need."

There's a knock at the door and I pull away. "I'll get it," I say, because I know who it is. I open the door and Sebastian walks in, looking slightly uncomfortable. "Simon, this is Sebastian," I say.

Simon stands and lifts an eyebrow at me with a sideways grin. "Nice to meet you," he replies.

"Likewise," says Sebastian.

Simon grabs his bag from the bookshelf and straightens up. "Well...I've got to get to work. I'll see you around." And then he's gone.

"So that's your one roommate?" Sebastian asks.

I nod. "Yeah. Isabelle isn't here right now, I guess. She must be at work."

He turns to me. "And what do you do? Why aren't you at work?"

"I'm an artist," I tell him. "I work from home."

He grins. "Can I see some of your work?"

"Sure," I reply, and lead him to my bedroom. The corner is full of some of paintings that are for sale, spare art supplies, and sketchbooks. He lifts a sketchbook off the pile and begins to flip through.

His eyes take in my drawings - angel wings with shining feathers, Simon behind the counter at Midtown Comics, flipping through a comic book, Isabelle looking fierce and fiery and flawless, and..."Is that Jace Herondale?" he asks, pointing towards a drawing from a few days ago. Jace's eyes look up at me from the page. I drew him the way he looked before he kissed me - relaxed and happy and at ease. I can almost imagine the picture moving, Jace blinking sleepily and reaching down to me, pulling me against him and setting his lips against mine -

"Oh. Um...yes, it is."

Sebastian laughs a little. "I have to say," he says, shaking his head. "I didn't have you pegged for the celebrity fangirl type."

"I'm not," I protest lightly. "I just...knew Jace for a little while."

A muscle in Sebastian's cheek jumps. "You knew Jace Herondale," he repeats. "Recently?"

"I guess so," I reply. Before I can react, Sebastian grabs my arms and shoves me to the wall, his lips finding mine in the process. He kisses me hard, passionately, his hands wrapping around my waist to pull me flush against him.

His lips easily part mine beneath them and he deepens the kiss. I reach up my hand and slide it into his short hair just as my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull away a few inches and retrieve it from my pocket. Sebastian begins to leave hurried kisses down my neck. A text lights up my screen.

 _From: Jon Morgenstern_

 _magnus would like to invite us to a dinner party tomorrow night. he said bring simon & dates if u can find them._

I send a quick reply saying I'll be there. It will be nice - I haven't seen Magnus in a long time. Sebastian grins down at me. "What was that for?" I ask him.

"I just felt like it," he says.

"My old friend just invited me to his place for dinner tomorrow night," I tell Sebastian. "Want to come as my date?"

His dark eyes glitter. "Of course. Who's your friend?"

"Magnus Bane," I reply. "He's a producer and director. He's done a few movies."

Sebastian's eyebrows lift. "A few? Clary, he's famous!"

I shrug. "Yeah, I guess. He's still old Mags to me."

He looks like he's about to say something else when a knock sounds at the door. "One of your roommates?" Sebastian asks.

I shake my head. "No, they have keys." I have a creeping suspicion of who it might be. _Don't think about him don't think about him don't think about him._

I go to answer the door.

* * *

 **Jace**

I knock on Clary's door with my pulse banging in my fingertips and brain. What if she doesn't answer? God, what if she _does_ answer? The door swings open and Clary stands in the doorway, tiny and beautiful and fiery and _pissed._ Her hair is curly like it usually is, and on impulse I reach fowards and brush it from her eyes. She's wearing sweatpants that look too big to be hers - Simon's, maybe? The thought makes my hands begin to sweat. She goes to slam the door shut, but I jam my shoulder into it to keep it open, stepping into the apartment.

"Get out," she snaps at me.

I set my jaw. "You can't keep ignoring me, Clary."

"Really?" Her voice is dangerous. "Watch me."

I open my mouth to speak when someone comes around the corner of the kitchen. Not just someone, either. A dark haired boy holding a glass of water in one hand. The same kind of glasses that Clary keeps in the apartment. He sets it down on the table when he sees me. "Who's that?" he asks, but his face suggests that he knows _exactly_ who I am.

Clary turns to him, smoothing her hair. "No one." She sounds tired.

He walks up to her and places a protective arm around her waist. I feel my blood begin to boil. She's already replaced Simon with someone else. _Someone who isn't you,_ hisses the voice in my head. "Is he giving you trouble?"

I'll give him trouble, that's for sure. "Who are you?" I snap at him.

"Sebastian. Clary's boyfriend." His eyes narrow as he steps slightly in front of Clary. As if he's protecting her from me. She doesn't need to be protected! My lip curls.

"Oh. She's got another one of those already?"

Clary's eyes flash. "You have no space to talk," she spits. "A new girl every night, is it? That's why you were so desperate to act like you care about anyone more than yourself. But you couldn't even do it." The words hang in the air between us. I open my mouth but nothing comes out.

"Listen, man," says Sebastian. "I think you should go."

Who does he think he is? "Well, I think you should go f-"

"Jace." Clary's voice is scary quiet. "Go."

I give her one last look, searching those emerald eyes for any hesitation. There isn't any. I turn and slam the door behind me, so hard that I feel the floor shiver under my feet.

* * *

I don't remember deciding to get drunk, but I am. Maybe it's the fault of the blonde waitress who's currently sitting on my lap. Kaelie is her name, I think. She's my old type - tall and blonde and pleasing to the eye. We're on the couch in my suite.

Someone knocks on the door. I ignore it. Kaelie twines her hands around my neck and pulls me in for another kiss. The knocking persists. Kaelie pulls back an inch or two and looks up at me through her eyelashes. "Are you going to get that?"

I shake my head. "No need." Her lips find mine again, and everything is just beginning to slide away -

"Jace," snaps a voice. A familiar voice. I glance up to see Alec standing with his arms crossed in front of us, looking in no way amused. I forgot that he has a key to the suite.

Kaelie turns her head to see him and smiles lazily. "Who's your friend? Is he here to join in?"

"Jace," Alec repeats. "What the fuck are you doing?"

He must be really mad. He almost never swears. "Enjoying the pleasures of life," I reply, throwing in a cocky look at the end. Kaelie giggles against my neck.

Alec scowls. "You need to go," he tells Kaelie.

She pouts out her bottom lip. "Don't order me around."

"Kaelie," I murmur against her ear. She giggles. "I'll call you later. But for now...I have work to do."

"Okay," she says with a wink before sliding from my lap. "Anything for you." She picks up her things and is gone.

Alec crosses his arms and looks down at me. "Jace, why are you doing this? I thought we established that this is not the thing to be doing."

"What does it matter?" I snap back. "I got the part. Now get off my back."

"You can't keep doing things like thi-"

"What?" I interrupt. "Are you jealous because you're in love with me too?"

Alec's face goes white, and then purple. "Excuse me," he says in a quick and breathless voice. "What?"

So I've struck a nerve. I should apologize, but I'm so angry that I won't. Not even angry at Alec. Angry at myself. "Go ahead then. Kiss me."

"You...you're out of your mind," stutters Alec, looking like he may be sick. He pulls an envelope out of his pocket and throws it forcefully at me, then backs up as if trying to put as much distance between us as possible. "This is from Magnus."

I sneer. "Oh. Magnus. What are you going to do when we work with him, huh? Turn into an embarrassed mess again?"

His eyes go wide with shock, and then anger. "I do everything I can to help you, Jace," he says. "But I can't help you if you don't want to be helped." With that, he's gone, leaving me alone in my suite with the faint lingering smell of Kaelie's perfume.

The smirk falls from my face and I rip open the embellished envelope, tossing it to the ground. A piece of paper inside holds a short note in curling handwriting that must be Magnus'.

 _Herondale -_

 _You're invited to dinner at my loft tomorrow night. Bring that lovely manager of yours, and a date if you can find one. Wear something nice, and try to convince Alec to not wear one of those awful sweaters he seems to be surgically attached to. You will regret it if you don't come._

 _With regards to you manager,_

 _Magnus Bane_

Glitter falls from the paper into my lap. I toss the invite aside and sink down into my chair. The last thing I want to do is go to dinner at that loft with crazy Magnus Bane and the only friend I have left, who probably hates me now.

But I'll go anyways. If I don't, I know I'll just sit here until I waste away, thinking again and again of bright green eyes and hair the color of copper in the sun.

* * *

 **Sorry it's been so long! School started for me and sophomore year is already killing me, as is theater! It's a lot of work. Looks like Magnus is playing at something here...ooh, I wonder what. And is it just me, or does Sebastian seem a _little_ jealous? We'll find out soon...haha. Tune in next time to watch the drama unfold. As always, drop me a review if you enjoyed the chapter, and thanks for reading! **


	11. Chapter 11

**Clary**

Isabelle untwists my hair from the bun I stuck it in earlier, humming as she runs her hands through my curls. "Ow!" I protest as she snags a knot on her finger. She clucks her tongue at me and meets my eyes in the mirror.

"So what's Magnus like?" she asks, tilting her head to the side. She's straightened her hair, and it hangs in a glossy curtain down her back.

I grin. "You'll love him, Iz. He's dramatic and fashionable and lovely."

She sighs. "I just wish you would have told me you were friends with someone famous sooner," she says with a smirk. "Especially someone as media-splashing as Magnus Bane."

I roll my eyes. "Oh, come on, Isabelle. He's not that famous. He's just a director and producer."

"Of some of the best franchises in movie history!" She lets my hair fall back down to my shoulders. "Can I straighten your hair?" she says, sounding almost as if she's thinking out loud. "We can match."

"Izzy, no," I groan at her. "We don't have time for this."

She pouts at my reflection. "I promise you can pick your own outfit and do your own makeup if you let me. Please?" She drags out the last word until I smack her.

"Fine," I sigh, resigned. Isabelle claps her hands together excitedly.

"You're going to look so pretty," she whispers, and begins her work.

* * *

Jon, Isabelle, Simon, Sebastian and I stand in the hallway outside Magnus' door. Sebastian looks a bit nervous, and keeps twisting his hands behind his back. I grab one of them to still them, and he gives me a strange smile. I turn to Jon. "Where's your date?" I ask him.

"Couldn't find one," he says, and knocks on the door.

I lift an eyebrow at him. I doubt that. When we were growing up, girls were always obsessed with Jon - raving over his silvery hair and strong jawline. Enough things to make me want to puke for days.

Magnus opens the door to reveal a party already in full swing in his loft. My mouth drops open. "I thought we were coming for dinner!" I gasp.

He rolls his eyes, the blue glitter on his eyelids catching the light. "I figured we could all use some festivities," he replies, then breaks into an easy grin. "Come here, Biscuit." He pulls me in for a hug that smells strongly of sandalwood.

"Now," he says, releasing me, "the party starts." He claps Jon on the back as he enters, gives Simon an easy smile, and seems to click instantly with Isabelle. When he sees Sebastian, he pauses. "Who's this?"

I clear my throat. "This is my...ah, boyfriend. Sebastian Verlac."

Sebastian holds out his hand to Magnus. "Nice to meet you."

Magnus lifts an eyebrow and sweeps back into his loft without another word, ignoring Sebastian's outstretched hand. I give Sebastian a helpless look. "Come on," I tell him, and we enter the party, letting the door swing shut behind us.

His loft is decked magnificently in hanging silks of royal purple and silver, and the floor to ceiling windows are open and letting in fresh air. The balcony is stuffed with people and decorated with what appears to be an elaborate ice statue lit by twinkling bulbs. A DJ plays music from the corner, and a bar has been set up on one side of the room, handing out brightly colored drinks. Magnus really knows how to throw a party.

"Do you want a drink?" asks Sebastian. I nod, and he disappears into the crowd to get me one. And that is the precise moment I know that I'm going to murder Magnus.

Jace stands to one side of the room with his arm set around the waist of a tall blonde girl wearing a tight black dress. He's talking to Alec and a group of girls that seem to be clinging to his every word. The blonde girl wears a smug smirk and keeps reaching over to brush his hair from his eyes. He looks over and catches my eye - his mouth opens slightly and he pauses mid sentence. It's a surprised look. I guess he didn't know I was coming either. I immediately feel underdressed in my worn jeans and plain white t-shirt, nothing compared to a lacy black dress.

His expression quickly knits back into a casually stony one, and he leans over to press his lips to the girl's. She kisses him back with sickening enthusiasm, reaching her hands around his shoulders and lifting her leg up to balance against his. I can feel the blood pounding in my ears and am vaguely aware that my hands have curled into tight fists at my sides.

"Clary!" I whip around to see Sebastian holding two pink-and-orange drinks, looking a bit annoyed. "I've been calling your name."

"Sorry," I tell him, accepting the drink he hands me. I lift it to my mouth and take a sip. It is so sweet that I almost spit it out - the mixed taste of orange, strawberry, and vodka.

Sebastian doesn't meet my eyes. "It was the least exotic thing they had," he says, almost apologetically.

My eyes drift back over to Jace. He's got the girl pushed up against the wall, and his hand is playing with the hem of her dress. The sight makes me feel sick and dizzy. I turn quickly back to Sebastian. "Do you want to dance?" I hate dancing. I am a terrible dancer. But perhaps it will get my mind off of Jace.

A glint lights his black eyes. "Of course." We set our drinks on a crowded end table and head to the writhing throng of dancers in the center of the loft. Sebastian holds me close as we move to the fast music. But even then, nothing can stop my eyes from drifting to the bright blonde hair in my periphery, and nothing can stop the growing coldness in my chest.

* * *

 **Jace**

God, she's here. Magnus invited her - he had to have. And he knew about us - he did this on purpose. I scowl. "Baby, what's wrong?" asks Kaelie. I school my expression back to neutral.

"Nothing," I reply easily. I quickly down the rest of my drink.

She grins at me and lays her head down on my chest. "I'm so glad you decided to bring me here tonight," she sighs. "This is where I belong." I don't bother replying. I stopped giving out fruitless compliments to girls years ago.

"Herondale," says a smooth voice behind me. I turn around to see Magnus Bane sporting what could only be described as a robe, long purple velvet that drapes the floor. The front is open, and he wears only a pair of silky gold boxer shorts underneath. His chest is covered in colored body glitter.

I nod at him. "Magnus Bane."

He gives me an amused look, his green eyes catching the light. "Do you know where that Alec ran off to?" he asks, a hopeful tone entering his voice.

I grin. "I have no idea. But I'm sure he's found a dark corner to stew in." Kaelie laughs at my words, too loudly, not sincere at all. Magnus lifts an eyebrow.

"In that case," he says, sounding a bit disappointed, "I need to talk to you. Alone," he adds, with a sideways look at Kaelie. She pouts but says nothing. I twist a lock of her hair around my finger and release her into the crowd.

Magnus draws me away, to a less populated corner of the party. "Biscuit!" he calls. Clary walks over to us, her expression guarded. Her hair is straight, so unlike her usual wild curls. I decide instantly I like it better the way it naturally is. Did she straighten it to impress that asshole boyfriend she's got? The thought makes my jaw clench. "What do you need?" asks Clary, ignoring me.

"I've just cast Herondale in my new movie," says Magnus in a silky voice. "I need a favor."

Clary sighs. "Why does everyone need a favor from me recently? But of course, Magnus. Anything."

"I need you and Herondale to pretend to date again," he says.

And if I expected him to say anything at all, it wasn't that. She finally turns to meet my eyes, and hers are green and wide and pained, somehow - a look that makes me feel as if my heart is being ripped into two. For maybe the millionth time, the memory of her lips on mine crosses my mind. I swallow. "What?" I ask, and I sound a little bit breathless.

"It was great for your image," explains Magnus. "And it would do the press leading up to the movie some good as well. Plus," says Magnus with a small grin, "unlike whatever happened before, I'll pay you, Biscuit."

Clary chokes. "Pay me? Magnus, you don't have to do anything for me, when you've already done so much. I'll do it for free." Her voice quiets at the end and is almost stolen away by the music and voices in the room.

"Nonsense," says Magnus in a breezy voice. "So I suggest doing something together tomorrow - you haven't been seen together in quite a while. Now, excuse me, I think I've caught a glimpse of Alexander." He drops a wink in my direction before sweeping away.

She looks at her feet. She's wearing old, paint splattered Converse. It's comfortingly Clary. "So...maybe lunch tomorrow, then?" I say, still disbelieving that she even agreed to do this at all.

"Alright," she says curtly. "You can come by and get me tomorrow." Before I can say anything else, she turns and walks back into the crowd. I follow her coppery hair through the party until she reaches a tall, dark haired boy - her boyfriend. He leans down and presses a firm kiss to her cheek before looking up to give me a murderous glare. I'm sure I'm returning the favor - the sight of him casually touching Clary like that has me on edge. At least with Simon, it was clear he really cared for her. With him, it seems like he wants to own her.

I cross my arms over my chest and look for Alec. I finally spot him talking to Magnus at the far side of the party - he looks flustered and keeps tugging on the sleeves of his stretched out sweater. Magnus is grinning his catlike grin, and keeps reaching over to straighten out Alec's hair. Despite myself, I feel a smirk of my own coming on. It's all ruined when someone taps my shoulder.

"Jacey," says Kaelie. "What did Magnus Bane want?"

I toss her a look. "Nothing," I lie easily. "Just work stuff."

"Okay," she replies easily, and reaches up to kiss me. Her lips close in on mine and she shoves her body flush against mine, wrapping her hands around my waist and running her nails over my shirt. And suddenly, it feels sick to touch her and kiss her when I don't feel anything for her.

Which is not necessarily something I've felt before.

I push her gently back. "What?" she says. "Just let me kiss you." Her eyes dart around the crowd. Whatever she says, she doesn't care for me either - I'm famous, and that's what's attractive to her.

"Sorry," I tell her. "I can't see you anymore."

"What?" Kaelie shrieks, turning a few heads. "I look so good next to you! I'll go to all of your premieres and support you until the end."

"No," I say, getting annoyed. "I just can't do this anymore." I turn away from her before she can talk again. I don't want to be at this party anymore, in the same room as Kaelie and Magnus Bane and Clary's bastard boyfriend.

Anyways, I have a lunch date to plan.

* * *

 **Hey guys! I know these chapters are coming less frequently but I'm pretty busy right now. Anyways, there's some major stuff that's going down in the next few chapters, so stay tuned. I love you all, and thanks so much for reading!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Clary**

Sebastian is quiet the whole way home. He doesn't look at or acknowledge me until we're back in my apartment. He paces in front of me. "You're mine," he says slowly. "Right?" The image of vintage Valentine cards rise up in my mind - little bugs or flowers saying _Be mine?_ to each other. I've always hated Valentine's Day, but not for the reasons people usually think.

"Like...your girlfriend?" I ask.

He turns to face me. His eyes look completely black. "Mine," he simply repeats. "And you know that you're mine. Why were you looking at him?"

Something about the tightness of his jaw and the angry fire in his eyes is beginning to make me wary. "At who? Sebastian, what are you talking about?"

He grabs me and shoves me against the wall, his fingers squeezing my shoulders. "At Jace Herondale," he hisses. "I saw you, at dinner. You were looking at him."

"Let go of me," I say weakly.

Sebastian doesn't seem to hear me. "Am I not good enough?" he asks, and it's almost like he's talking to himself, like I'm not even there with him. A flash of panic sears through my chest. Why is he acting this way? _Because he's right,_ says the voice in my head. _You're jealous of that girl who was with Jace._

"I don't know what you're talking abou-"

"Don't lie to me!" Sebastian yells, and his fist connects with my jaw, sending my head whipping to the side. The room fades away, and I am a child again, cowering in a corner as a different man strikes my face. I lift my hands to shield myself from him, from his black eyes and silver blonde hair and swinging hand. My ears echo with his harsh words, with my mother's pleas for him to stop, with Jon's yelling and crying. I don't want to be stuck in this dark place. I pinch the skin of my leg as hard as I can.

The room swings back into focus, and I'm on the floor, sunk down in shock. "You hit me," I say hollowly.

"Clary," says Sebastian, and his voice is soft. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to do that." He crouches next to me and runs gentle fingers down my stinging jawbone. Fingers that, only moments before, were in a fist and slamming into the same spot. "You know that I'd never do anything to intentionally hurt you. I just got a little overprotective because of Herondale."

I stare up at him. His face looks so earnest. I want to believe his words. Anyways, it's true, isn't it? I was looking at Jace. I still can't push the memory of the kiss out of my mind. Sebastian brushes my hair back gently. "I'm sorry," he says again. He leans in and presses a gentle kiss to my mouth. I feel as if daggers are pointed outwards underneath my skin and are slowly pushing themselves out, tearing me apart. And there's nothing I can do to stop it.

* * *

The next morning, I sleep late, and when I glance in the mirror there's a dark purple bruise decorating the side of my jaw. It hurts like hell. I shuffle into the kitchen to find Simon and Izzy already awake. Isabelle sees me first, and her eyes widen. "By the Angel, Clary, what happened? Did you get mugged?"

"No," I say glumly, pouring myself some coffee. There's a few donuts on the table, but it might hurt to chew, so I don't take one.

They exchange a worried glance. "Then what happened?" asks Simon in a gentle voice. I don't think Simon would ever hit me. I was never afraid of him when we were in a relationship.

But I can't tell them the truth. Sebastian means well. Doesn't he? Until I figure it out, I'll keep it to myself. "I slipped and hit my chin on the counter," I lie. "Last night."

Simon's eyes narrow. He's known me for long enough to see that I'm telling untruths. "Clary, you can tell us what happened," he says.

"I said, I slipped and hit my chin on the counter," I snap at him. I grab a bottle of painkillers from the counter and swallow two of them dry. He gives me a worried look.

"Alright," he says, but I can tell that he doesn't believe me.

Isabelle bumps me lightly with her shoulder. "Hey. Jace is taking you out for lunch today, right?" I nod my head and take a long sip of coffee. "Can I help you get ready?"

Her voice is soft. I look at her. Usually I would protest, but I will need help hiding my bruise. "Okay," I tell her. Isabelle's eyes light up.

"You're agreeing? That's a first. Come on." She tugs my arm towards her room.

"Isabelle, we're going to lunch! It's still morning."

She lifts an eyebrow at me. "Sweetie, have you looked at the clock? It's already past eleven. He's coming at noon." She ushers me into her bedroom and opens her closet. She lets me help pick out my outfit, which is nice of her. We settle on a pair of my jeans, a nice green silk shirt of Isabelle's, and my brown ankle boots.

"Can you cover it up?" I blurt out while Isabelle brushes mascara onto my eyelashes.

Her face, always alight with either a smile or a murderous glare, falls to something almost like pity. "Yes. Of course."

* * *

 **Jace**

When I knock on Clary's door, Simon pulls it open. We stare at each other for couple of awkward seconds before he steps aside. "Come in." I step into the apartment and Simon shuts the door behind me. "Be careful with her," he says. I look over at him, confused. Simon just gives me a quick nod. "He's here," he calls into the apartment.

Clary and Isabelle round the corner. Clary doesn't meet my eyes - she keeps her head down. Her curls hang in her face. Isabelle looks down at her before smiling brightly at me. "Would it be alright if Simon and I join you two for lunch?"

Clary still doesn't meet my eyes. Something is wrong. But I won't push on it, not yet. So I smile and nod instead. Isabelle and Simon exchange a look. Clary finally looks up at me. Her green eyes are wide and her freckles look strangely muted. Is she wearing makeup? "What's the plan?" asks Isabelle briskly. Everything about Isabelle is brisk - her pace, her voice, her startling appearance.

"Well...I thought we could go somewhere local for lunch," I explain.

Simon claps his hands together. "Taki's. Of course. There's no better place in Brooklyn."

"Or in all of New York, for that matter," adds Clary in a soft voice, her face set in a small smile. Simon and Isabelle both smile a bit too, and lead me out of the apartment to what looks like a rundown diner a couple of blocks away. There's a sign hanging crookedly over the door that reads _Taki's_ and windows that are smudged and dirty.

A man wearing an atrocious maroon bowling shirt leans by the door, picking at his cuticles. He brightens as we approach. "My favorite customers," he says fondly, patting Simon on the shoulder.

Simon grins. "You're the reason we keep coming back, Clancy."

Clancy gives me an appraising look as I enter. I knot my hands in my pockets. Simon and Isabelle slide into one side of a cracked vinyl booth, and Clary sits on the other. I sit next to her and rest my hands on the top of the formica table. Isabelle passes around some laminated menus. There are only three at the table, so Clary and I share the last one. I note how casual and comfortable they all look in this place - Isabelle leaning back against the wall with her long legs kicked up over Simon's lap; Simon, his left hand resting on the table and his right flipping through the menu; Clary with her curls framing her face, one elbow propped on the table and holding up her chin. I grin at them. Clary looks up at me. "What?"

I quickly look down at the menu to cover the rush of heat that's leaped into my cheeks. I _never_ blush. What's wrong with me? "Oh...'luscious faerie plums'?" I laugh. "What's that?"

Clary laughs too. "By the Angel, don't look at that section." She reaches forwards a small hand and turns to a section of the menu with soups, sandwiches, and 24 hour breakfast.

A waitress comes up to our table to take our drink orders. She glances at me before looking back and staring. "Oh my God," she says in a heavy Brooklyn accent. "You're Jace Herondale."

Isabelle snorts. "Looks just like him, doesn't he?"

The waitress seems to deflate a little. "Oh. That's my bad. What are you having?"

Simon and Clary order coffee. Isabelle orders a complicated drink that she complicates further, if that's even possible. On last thought, I order a glass of their 'world famous mango twist.'

"Thanks," I tell Isabelle.

She grins at me. "I like to eat in peace," she says. "And I can't have peace if there's a group of rabid fangirls drooling all over our table." Simon lets out a snort-laugh.

The waitress comes back and drops our drinks onto the table. "I'll have the Italian wedding soup," says Isabelle before she can ask what we want. Simon orders turkey on rye and Clary orders coconut pancakes. I ask for their tomato soup.

"So you guys come here a lot," I observe.

Simon and Clary exchange a look - one that communicates years and years of knowing exactly what the other is thinking. I feel a flash of jealousy and push it away. As hard as I try not to, I kind of like Simon. And he's a good friend to Clary. "Since we were ten," starts Simon.

"Here we go," says Isabelle.

"-studying for spelling tests," finishes Clary with a grin. "You were always better than me."

Simon laughs. "Unless the word is 'hemoglobin.'"

* * *

Isabelle dragged Simon off into a boutiquey type store on the way back, so I walk Clary home. She lets me hold her hand, which makes nervous tingles shoot up my fingers. What's wrong with me? I never feel like this. I'm Jace Herondale. Cool. Composed. Not this.

I catch sight of a cameraman across the street and roll my eyes at her. "What?" she asks, clearly worried.

"Don't freak out," I tell her, and lean in to run my hand across her cheekbone. She flinches back, and my fingers come away stained with the color of her skin. _Foundation?_ "Clary...?" I ask, my eyes falling on the dark bruise decorating her jaw.

Her face turns gray. I feel my fingers closing around her arm just beneath her elbow, while the other reaches up and hovers just next to her cheek. "Clary. What happened?"

She averts her eyes and tries to pull her arm away. "Nothing," she says in a tight voice. "Let it go."

"No." I gently touch my fingertips to the bruise. Clary closes her eyes. "Tell me what happened."

Her eyes open, and they are blindingly green, the color of emeralds under bright lights or leaves just after it's rained. "I just fell down the stairs," she tells me.

She won't meet my eyes. She bites down on her bottom lip and chews nervously. She's _lying._ "Clary, you can tell me," I try to make my voice gentle, even though the familiar creep of anger is flooding my brain, making my vision go red at the edges. I think I already know her answer.

"I fell. Goodbye, Jace," she says quickly, and hurries away down the sidewalk. The image of the bruise on her cheek sticks to the undersides of my eyelids when I close my eyes and lean back against the wall. I don't know how long I stand there, but eventually someone taps my shoulder.

I look towards the tapper to see Simon and Isabelle staring at me. "Where's Clary?" asks Simon.

"How did she get the bruise on her cheek?" I ask, my voice deadly quiet.

Isabelle's face goes white. Simon looks away. "She said she slipped and hit her chin on the counter," says Isabelle quietly.

"She told me," I say, my voice almost too quiet to hear, "that she fell down the stairs."

Simon shakes his head. "Oh, God," he says, wringing out his hands. "Iz, I knew it, we should have pushed her to tell us more, I _knew_ something was wrong..."

My hands curl into fists at my sides. I can barely get the next word out between my clenched teeth. "Sebastian."

Then I take off down the sidewalk, shoving people out of my way. I've let Clary go, _by herself_ , back to that asshole. I can't believe it. I can't believe that I would do that.

This is my fault.

* * *

 **Sooo...long time no see, guys. For everyone still reading my story - I really appreciate it :) I'm thinking of adding in some more Malec, so if anyone has any ideas for that feel free to drop me a review about it. I hope you all are staying safe and having fun and enjoying life.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Clary**

Sebastian is leaning against the wall outside my room when I come up the stairs. His face brightens when he sees me, and then his eyes flick down to the now exposed bruise on my jaw. He catches me in his arms and runs a finger along it. I expect him to apologize again, but he doesn't. "Come on," is all he says, and opens the door to the apartment. I hesitate at the threshold but he firmly guides me in and shuts the door.

When he leans in to kiss me, I tilt my head a bit, so he catches the corner of my mouth instead. He pulls back, his eyebrows furrowing. "What's wrong?"

"I-"

"I said I wouldn't do it again," says Sebastian, looking annoyed. "I apologized already." His fingers close around my chin and straightens my face before he leans in again, pushing his lips against mine. And it doesn't feel nice anymore. I don't know if it _ever_ felt nice.

Sebastian grins against my mouth and leans in close to my ear. "I contacted your brother," he says. His breath ruffles the hair by my ear when he speaks. "He's going to move in."

And even though that was my idea, and this whole thing was my idea, I feel wretched. And trapped. I try for a smile, and then Sebastian leans in again, catching my wrists in one hand and pushing them up over my head. "Mine," he says softly, like he's talking to himself, his eyes skimming over my face. Then he kisses me again, and I feel more and more like I'm watching this and it's not happening to me, because I should be pushing him away.

 _Then why don't you?_

The voice in my head is Jace's.

Someone bangs on the door, an angry and insistent crashing that doesn't stop. Sebastian pulls back with a growl of vexation and goes to the door. He looks through the peep hole and the muscles in his arms tighten. "Who is it?" I ask.

He turns around to look at me before coming back over to me and grabbing my waist. "It's nobody," he says, and the knocking stops.

"Clary!" yells a voice from the other side of the door. _Jace._ "Open the door!"

And relief floods through me. I sag against the wall. "Open the door," I tell Sebastian.

His eyes flash. "You don't tell me what to do." He glances back to the door, and his nostrils flare. "You are _mine_ and I will not _share_."

"Open the door, Sebastian!" I yell.

Sebastian whips to face me and seizes my arm in his grip. "Keep your voice down," he snaps. He kisses me again, and this time I do push him back, and lunge for the door, where Jace has begun to pound again. Sebastian grabs the back of my shirt and pulls me back.

He drives his elbow into my stomach and I double over, wheezing. Sebastian swings my head into the wall and then the floor is against my cheek. My head spins and when I try to lift it, it feels far too heavy. When I finally manage to sit up, the door's hinges splinter and swing open, hitting the wall so hard that the doorknob cracks it. Jace stands in the doorway, all gold and fire. He looks like an avenging angel.

"Get away from her, you sick motherfucker," he snarls at Sebastian. I struggle to my feet just as he slams his fist in Sebastian's jaw, then his nose, and his fists keep flying. Sebastian is hitting him back, but Jace doesn't even seem to notice. He lays down blow after blow on him, his golden eyes flashing with murderous anger. Two people come bursting into the room - Izzy and Simon.

"Clary!" gasps Simon, rushing forwards to me, at the same time as Isabelle yells, "Jace!" She grabs his arm and pulls him back, away from Sebastian's half-conscious form. He lets her pull him back and looks over at me, and the anger in his eyes is gone. All that's left there now is a hollowness, a shocked expression. Simon is talking to me, but I don't hear him.

Jace steps over to me and holds out a hand in front of my face but doesn't touch it, his fingers hovering an inch from my cheek. "I'm okay," I say, and I don't know whether I'm talking to Simon or Jace.

"I'm going to call the police," says Isabelle, pulling out her cell phone.

"No!" I gasp, wrenching myself from Simon's grip.

Isabelle looks up in shock. "What do you mean, 'no'? This asshole deserves a jail cell." She nudges Sebastian's limp form with her foot.

I shake my head vigorously, bringing on a fresh wave of dizziness. "No," I repeat. "Just...I don't want to talk to them."

"Whatever you want," says Izzy, but I can tell she doesn't approve. I don't care. I just know I don't want to involve the police, who might then incriminate Jace... _Jace._ I turn to look at him. He's staring at me like he's never seen me before, like I am something to be marveled at, like I'm the first star in the sky.

"She can't stay here," argues Simon. "We'll get him to move out, but until he does, she can't stay across the hall from him."

Jace speaks. "She can stay with me."

Isabelle and Sebastian look at him. "What?" I say.

"They're right, Clary," he says, and when he says my name it sounds like something else.

"That sounds okay," says Isabelle, "if it's alright with you."

I close my eyes and concentrate on the pain in my head and the stinging of my ribs. "Okay."

* * *

 **Jace**

"Hold _still_ ," commands Clary, running the washcloth over my split knuckles again. I still can't believe she's insisting on cleaning me up when she's the one I'm really worried about.

I shake my head at her. "I can't just..." I groan and lean back into my chair. She kneels on the floor in front of me. She's tied her hair up into a ponytail, but a tendril has escaped and spirals lazily down across her face, splitting her bruise in two. "You're hurt," I argue.

Her brilliant eyes flick up to meet mine. "Not as badly as you are," she says. She finishes with my hand and lets it drop back into my lap. She frowns up at me. "You might have a black eye tomorrow," she tells me.

"I don't care about that," I reply. "All I care about is that you're away from...is that you're safe."

Her face colors considerably. I'm sure mine has as well, but I can't find it in me to care right now. She reaches up and brushes her thumb over my bottom lip. A shiver runs down my spine and I close my eyes. "Your lip," she says, sounding breathless. "It's split."

"I'll live," I say.

"Open your eyes," she replies.

I do. I see her, small and fiery and beautiful, and so close to me. Her hand still lingers at the side of my face, and my eyes dart down to her lips. All I can think of is that I'd really like to kiss her. But I remember what happened last time I tried that, and I don't want her to run away from me. Not ever. I exhale, pushing my breath out slow and controlled, and brush the piece of hair in her face behind her ear instead. "You could have told me," I say, because I can't hold it in anymore.

"We weren't talking," she replies, her eyes darting away.

The words strike me. We weren't, but she still could have talked to me. "It doesn't matter," I tell her. "I want you to...to know that you can always come to me. For anything."

Clary sighs. "I survived the first time," she says quietly, as if she's talking to herself. "I'm alright."

My blood runs cold. "The first time? Clary, what are you talking about? Did Simon...?"

"No!" she snaps. "Of course not."

I fold my hands in my lap. The familiar thrum of anger is starting again in my chest. _The first time? This has happened to her twice?_ "What," I say, struggling to keep my voice controlled, "do you mean by 'the first time?'"

Clary shakes her head and looks down into her lap, twisting her fingers together. I don't remember deciding to touch her, but suddenly my hands are on her upper arms. "Tell me," I say.

She lets out a long breath. "I never tell anyone," she says quietly. "I think...only Simon and Jon know."

"Jon?"

Her eyes flick up to meet mine. "My brother."

Clary sighs before continuing. "We were kids," she says. "Me and Jon. When my father..." she trails off. "He was a successful man, but he was an angry man too. And he took it all out on our mother." The story Magnus told me comes flooding back, the one about her dad killing her mom...

"And eventually, that wasn't enough, so he started to take it out on us too. I was six the first time he hit me." Her knuckles go white as her hands curl in on themselves. "Jon always tried to stop him, but it made it worse. Then, one day..." she furiously brushes the hair from her face, "...one day, he took it too far, and Mom wasn't waking up, and he wouldn't let us call the police. So he locked me and Jon in our bedroom and wouldn't let us out, no matter how much we screamed and yelled. We lived in a house in the country, so we didn't have any close neighbors. No one to hear us screaming." Clary swallows. "That's why I came to New York. There's always someone who can hear you. But that day, there wasn't. So Jon and I stayed in that room for three days, until we heard a gunshot from downstairs. That's when we knew we needed to get out of there. So we broke the door down with the dresser, and when we went downstairs...he'd shot himself."

 _Three days._ She was trapped for _three days_ in a room with her brother, and that asshole _abused_ her as a child and killed her mother. I try to push away the white hot anger rising in my chest. "Clary," I say, and my voice cracks. "I didn't know that."

"You wouldn't, would you," she says, and closes her eyes. I try to imagine it, what she described, but I can't. Sure, my dad wasn't around much, but he never hit me. Then she squeezes her eyes shut even tighter, and I realize she's trying not to cry.

My strong, beautiful, smart Clary, about to cry. I can't stand it. "Hey," I say softly. "You're safe now."

"I know," she whispers. "But I'm so weak. I feel weak."

"No," I say, and my voice is too loud for the quiet and still room. "You're strong. One of the strongest people I've ever met." Her cheeks redden at my words, but I mean them; I do.

Someone bangs on my door and we both jump. I scratch the back of my neck. "I'll get it," I say, and quickly go to open the door. Alec stands on the other side with his arms crossed. He stalks past me and into the suite. "Come in," I mutter after him.

"Jace, _what_ in the _hell_ -" he begins, and pauses when he sees Clary. "What is she doing here?"

Clary crosses her arms. It's good to see that familiar stubbornness. "I'm staying here," she says.

I sigh and sink down into a chair. Clary settles into the other. Alec lifts an eyebrow and pulls up a stool. "Jace, I don't know if you want me to talk about what we need to talk about in front of her."

Clary lifts her chin."Whatever it is, I can hear it."

"Spill," I tell Alec.

He pulls his lips together into a hard, tight line before speaking. "Well, it looks like photos have been leaked from this morning," he says, his voice carefully neutral. "And they show Clary with that bruise-" he gestures towards her quickly, "-and then shows her running away from you. And I can tell you, it doesn't look good."

Clary's face has gone white. I feel my fingers clenching into a fist. "What are you saying?" I ask, even though I already know the answer.

Alec closes his eyes for a few seconds before replying. "They think you're hitting her, Jace."

* * *

 **Oh dear oops. Sorry for serving you all hot plates of angst when you ordered romance. I've just always been one for looong and draaawn out love stories. I am super super busy right now with theater and homework and violin, but I am going to make time to write! I am thoroughly invested in this story and wish to see it through.**

 **Question for y'inz: is anyone in Alberto Rosende's book club? When he started it I just _had_ to join, of course. If anyone else here is - let's talk about To Kill A Mockingbird!**

 **Acrylix - thanks for the ideas! I'll see if I can work them in.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Clary**

"You don't have to do this," says Jace again. It seems like the only thing he's been saying to me for the past two days - the only thing I hear, anyways. I've felt like my head has been stuck underwater and everything around me is blurred and garbled. I shake my head to try to rid myself of the feeling, but it sticks.

"Yes, I do," I reply, which is what seems like the only thing I've been saying back. He gives me a conflicted look and shrugs his black jacket off, tossing it over the back of his couch.

He runs a hand through his golden hair. In the bright light of his suite, his hair glows gold like spent coals after a fire. I'm almost shocked when sparks don't fall from his fingers when he lowers them again. "But...being seen together in public is one thing," he says carefully. "An interview is something completely different."

I try to smile at him. "It will be fine. And you need your image back. The tabloids are having a field day with you." It's true - the few times Jace has let me out of the suite by myself, I've seen the headlines at every corner: _Is Jace Herondale abusing his girlfriend?_ or _Jace Herondale's mystery girl absent after photo spill showing big bruise._ Each one makes me feel sicker and sicker. But I owe it to Jace to clear up these rumors, because none of it is his fault, not really.

He frowns at me. I self consciously run a hand across my head, sweeping escaping hair back up into my bun. "We should go, then," I say, just to break the silence.

Jace nods stiffly. "I guess so." But neither of us move. Out of nowhere, he reaches forwards and grabs the pins from my bun. My hair spills down in curls around my shoulders, an orange curtain in my periphery.

A tiny, nervous smirks quirks at the side of his mouth. "Come on," he says to me, and leads me out of the suite.

* * *

Jace keeps my hand firmly held in his as we sit side by side on the love seat in our interview room for _Idris_ magazine. The interviewee is a lady with sharp jawbones and curled hair dyed a trendy silver. She wears a tight black dress and sparkling silver shoes. "Hi," she greets us with a wide smile. Her teeth are impossibly white and straight. She sets two glasses of water on the table in front of us.

I've never been in a room with so many cameras before. Or so many lights. I'm already a little dizzy. Jace squeezes my hand. The interviewee grins. "I'm Imogen with _Idris._ I have to say, it is incredible to have you two here today!" She nods at the cameraman, who starts rolling. Are they posting a video of the interview online as well? I begin tapping my foot nervously.

She beams at the camera. "Hell-oo, America! Imogen here with _Idris._ We have two very special guests here with us today - Jace Herondale and his new girlfriend!" She pauses, as if expecting applause, but there's no audience to clap, so she continues. "As you all know, pictures surfaced this week that have put everything we thought we knew in jeopardy! So we've got the star couple here to clear things up." The pictures flash by on a screen behind Imogen - Jace, reaching out to the bruise on my jaw, Jace, looking shocked, me, running away. I feel sick. "So," she says. "Jace. Why don't you introduce us to your lady?"

He smiles, a bright cocky smile that looks nothing like his real one. "Of course, Imogen," he says. "This is my girlfriend Clary."

Imogen's eyes glitter. "Clary! America, we have a name to the pretty face. Now, Clary, I know we're all wondering - what really happened? The truth is all we need."

I twist my hand into the soft white material of the couch and try for a smile. "Well, it's all a big misunderstanding," I say, trying to use my most earnest and friendly voice possible. To me, it sounds strange. "People saw pictures they didn't understand and jumped to completely false conclusions."

Jace's hand tightens around mine, and the toe of his shoe taps my ankle. "So," says Imogen. "You're saying that Jace was not the one that gave you that bruise on your cheek? You weren't running away from him?"

I smile, and this time it comes through. I hope Sebastian will see this, and see me happy and with Jace, let him see that he did not break me into submission. "No, he didn't," I say. "I wasn't running from Jace. I'm just forgetful, and remembered that I'd forgotten something."

"We're all so glad to hear it!" chirps Imogen. She turns to Jace. "So, tell me, golden boy. How long have you two been dating?"

* * *

Jace leans against the door to his suite, closing it with his shoulders. My eyes flick to the way his muscles move beneath his plain black t-shirt and my cheeks flame. "That was tiring," he says. "I'm sorry, Clary."

"I couldn't stand it," I finally say. "People blaming you for what...for what _he_ did."

"It didn't matter to me," says Jace, and his voice is suddenly rough. "I didn't care as long as you were safe."

Is it just me, or are we closer together than we were a moment ago? "They should know," I say, "how you are the opposite of him. How you're caring and kind if you want to be, behind all of those walls -"

I'm cut off as he pushes me against the wall, his hands shaking and his face so close to mine that we share the same air as we breathe. "Walls," he repeats, swallowing. _I want -_

I lean into his hands. "The walls you put up, so no one can see inside." _I want -_

"You can," he says, and his expression is awed, his eyes blown wide and dark. "You can." Then he leans in and his lips press to mine, and the thoughts leave my brain; nothing exists except for his lips on mine and his hand in my hair and the hard press of his body to mine.

 _I want you._

* * *

 **Jace**

She fits so perfectly against me - just the right height that she fits to my body in just the right places. And this time, she's not pushing me away, she's not running, she's kissing me _back_.

I can't believe, suddenly, that I've ever kissed other girls, because they make me feel ill now - nothing compares to Clary's soft lips on mine. She's not experienced at this, I can tell, but I feel nothing but satisfied, satisfied that I will be the one who shows her all of the things. I suppose she's only ever kissed two people. _Three._

I bite at her bottom lip, soft and teasing, and she gasps. I take the opportunity to deepen the kiss, and snake one arm around her waist to pull her tightly against me. She tastes like coffee and cinnamon, which I've decided is my new favorite flavor. My lips trail from her mouth to her jaw, leaving stinging pecks along her skin until I reach her ear.

Her head dips back to meet the wall, her eyes fluttering. I lean in against her skin. Maybe Simon never did this for her. I kiss around her ear before placing one just below it. "Oh!" gasps Clary, her green eyes shooting open. I gently bite at the same spot, not caring if I leave a mark, and her hands curl tightly into my black shirt, bunching the fabric at my sides. "Ja-ace..."

Hearing her voice break like that makes me shiver. This is dangerous. Everything is going so fast. I gently lean back and Clary gazes up at me with her doe's eyes, her cheeks pinked and her lips too. I run my thumb over the darkening mark on her neck and she tilts her head slightly. "I'm sorry," I tell her. "I just...no one ever looks at me like you do. I got carried away." I try to rebuild my resolve.

"Don't apologize," she says softly.

And then she leans up and kisses me, and the resolve falls away. I grip her tightly and then lift her - her legs fit carelessly around my waist and I groan into the kiss, walking with her and setting her down on my couch. Our lips never break from each other, and I let her lean back into the cushions. Her hair fans out around her face in a brilliant crimson tide. I prop my weight on my elbows so I don't crush her and slant our mouths closer together.

I hold her wrists in one hand and lift them up over her head. Her shirt rides up on her stomach and my mouth goes dry. The skin there is pale and soft looking, like fresh cream. I can't help myself. I reach down my other hand and draw patterns with my fingertips just above the waistband of her jeans., against the skin that is every bit as soft as it looks.

Clary gasps. My hand begins to slip u-

Someone bangs on the door. We both start and then I lean up off of her with a growl - why does everyone come knocking at the worst times? She looks dazed and small and beautiful against the couch. Her lips are swollen and she looks shocked, her eyes wide, as if she just woke from a dream and realized it was not real. "I'll get it," I tell her, and my voice is low and rough sounding. Maybe it is good that someone knocked. Maybe we are taking everything too fast.

I open the door to find Alec, Isabelle, Simon, and surprisingly, Magnus standing on the other side of the threshold, along with a silvery haired man with a sharp jaw and green eyes. Isabelle had an enormous bouquet of roses in her arms, bursting with reds and pinks and whites. "Congrats!" she yells into the suite, inviting herself in. "I can't wait to pick up an issue."

"Please tell me you don't read _Idris_ magazine," groans Clary, walking up to stand behind me. I ache to reach back and pull her against me, or to fit her hand into mine, to touch her in any way. But I resist.

Isabelle smiles slyly. "I must say, their gossip column is divine." Simon laughs.

"What are you all doing here?" I ask.

"What, you aren't glad to see us?" Magnus, the last to come into the suite, kicks the door shut behind him with a flourish. "We came to celebrate, naturally. But mostly for Biscuit's first magazine interview."

"First and last," says Clary.

Alec meets my eyes and gives me a strange look. Clary grins at the silvery haired man and reaches forwards to hug him. "Jon." I feel an irrational spike of jealousy and push it down. She grins at him before turning to face me. She motions towards me. "This is-"

"Jace Herondale," he says. "I've seen movies in the past ten years, Clary." He ruffles her hair affectionately and gives me a long stare. "I hope you're treating my little sister well."

Oh. So he's Clary's _brother_. "I hope so too," I answer. Clary blushes.

"Enough talking," says Isabelle, who has made her way into the kitchen and is experimenting with the dials on my stove. "I brought wine."

* * *

 **Wowza. Whatta chaptah.**

 **I had fun with this one. Yeah, not a lot happened, but I felt like you guys deserved some Clace after all of this angst. I'm sorry if this is not high quality writing, I always suck at writing kissing scenes but I tried my best. Maybe if I keep practicing I'll get better, haha. Anyways: Izzy in the kitchen is never a good sign, but enjoy it nonetheless. Perhaps more Izzy cooking coming up. Perhaps more cats. We shall see.**

 **Anyways, as always, thank you guys so so much for sticking with my story! I gotta tell you guys, when I'm at school and I check my email and read your reviews, it never fails to brighten my day and put a smile on my face. I love you guys to Alicante and back! *hugs***


	15. Chapter 15

**Clary**

It feels good to get back to something normal. The pencil in my hand doesn't feel like something I'm just holding - it's an extension of my arm, gliding across the page and creating the images that begin to solidify. I remove it from the surface and chew lightly on the end. I've got my scarf wrapped so tightly around my neck that it itches, but it's windy and cold out today. Prospect Park moves slowly, as if the sluggish weather is slowing down everything in it. An old man sits on the bench across from mine and tosses peanuts to the ground for squirrels to grab. A couple strolls by, hot drinks steaming in their hands. A girl jogs on the path in front of me, but even that looks slow.

Or maybe it's just that normal looks slow after my life became crazy. I frown and set the pencil back on the page. When did it get so hectic and confusing, anyways? I sigh and watch the drawing on my page develop. My heart gives a very cliche flutter when I realize the face staring up at me from the paper is Jace's. It's rough and only half shaded, but even then, it captures him. _Jace._ What am I supposed to do about him?

I absentmindedly begin to sketch a pair of angel wings from his shoulder blades as I bite my lip. How do I feel about Jace? I know that when he had that girl with him at Magnus' party it made me feel sick inside. I know that there's a part of me that wants to kiss him again. And I know for sure that I've never felt the way I did when he kissed me ever before...

I shake my head and finish the sketch. He looks beautiful and deadly, his lips curled into a devilish smirk and his eyes alight with playful fire even just in graphite. Great wings explode from his back, giving him an otherworldly look. "That _so_ does not look like work," teases a loud voice right behind me.

I jump and turn to see Simon leaning over the back of the bench with an amused smile on his face. I punch him in the shoulder and he slides into a sitting position next to me. "Nunya business," I tell him, attempting to shut my sketchbook.

"It is," says Simon, sticking his hand between the closing pages and flipping it back open. "As your best friend, I get to make fun of you for drawing Jace Herondale as an angel." His voice takes a high tone. "Oh, gosh, isn't he just _dreamy?_ With that sweet smile and those golden eyes, he looks so _angelic_."

I roll my eyes at him. "His smile isn't sweet."

Simon lifts an eyebrow. "What is it then? Beautiful? Dazzling? Out-of-this-world?"

"What are you doing here?" I say, craftily changing the subject.

He leans back against the bench and stretches out his feet in front of him. Ever since he started dating Isabelle, she's been buying him new clothes and starting to purge his closet. His style is now an even mix of geek and chic - and I'm happy to take all of the items Izzy will have no more of. Today he wears a heathered gray shirt that says _Schrodinger's Cat Is Not Dead_ with a pair of expensive looking jeans, stylish boots, and a soft leather jacket I can see myself stealing in the near future. "Well, I came to tell you that Sebastian's gone."

I suppose the news should make me happy. It does, I guess. But really, I would just rather never hear his name again. "Oh," is all I say.

Simon crosses his feet. "And Jon is still moving in, so you get to live across the hall from your brother." He shakes his head at me. "I don't know if I'd ever want to live across the hall from Becky."

"Come on, Simon, I love your sister! Anyways, Jon and I are close. You know that."

He fake-shivers. "Yes. But the walls are so thin. I wouldn't want her hearing all of my conversations."

I laugh, and the sound carries on the wind and sounds unnecessarily boisterous. "So what kinds of conversations have you been having lately, Simon Lewis?"

The tips of his ears turn bright red. "Nunya business," he replies.

I grin and he knows he's trapped. "As your best friend, I get to make fun of you and your special conversations. What are you and Izzy up to with me out of the way?"

"I can't believe this," says Simon, throwing a dramatic hand over his eyes. "Iz is rubbing off on you way too much. Relationship talk with Clary Fairchild? This has _got_ to be a joke." He opens his eyes and gives me a sly look. "But if you really want to talk, then let's talk. What's going on with Jace?"

I groan at him. "What about Jace?"

Simon pushes aside my scarf and flicks the skin right below my ear. "You've got a hickey, Clary, and if he didn't give it to you, you have a double life you didn't tell me about. If it's the latter, I'm extremely hurt."

"Hickey is such an ugly word," I say evasively, pulling my scarf back up around my neck.

He grins. "So it _was_ him," he clarifies. Simon lets out a gusty sigh. "Well, I can't say I'm the biggest fan of the guy, but if you like him, I suppose I'll deal with him."

I purse my lips. " _I_ never said anything. This is all you."

Simon gives me a look. "Clary, I can see the way he looks at you, okay? I know how he feels." A stab of guilt shoots through my chest and I look up at Simon in alarm. He smiles a bit. "Don't worry, we're good. But," he continues, "I think he really likes you, Clary. You can just feel it whenever you two are in the same room. It's disgusting, really."

"Disgusting?"

He lets out a short laugh. "Yeah. Reign it in a little, will you?"

* * *

 **Jace**

I pour myself a glass of liquor just as Alec walks in, looking flustered. He's wearing a new blue scarf that matches his eyes, and looks slightly out of breath. "Sorry I'm late," he says. His eyes dart around the room. "Where's Clary?"

My pulse quickens just hearing that word. _Clary._ "She went back to her apartment. The asshole moved out."

"I see," says Alec, helping himself to a bottle of sparkling water from my fridge. I don't even like sparkling water. I don't remember buying it.

"New clothes?" I say, just to change the subject.

His cheeks turn a brilliant crimson and he tugs at the end of the scarf. "Gosh, am I not allowed to buy new things? You sound like Magnus."

" _Magnus_ ," I echo. "What's going on with you and him, anyways?"

Alec fiddles with the label on the bottle. "This is not a conversation we need to have...now or ever."

I smirk at him. "You weren't picking up your phone last night."

"It died."

"You have glitter behind your ear," I point out, and he chokes on his drink. Ha. I've got him.

Alec shakes his head at me, causing the scarf to fall loose around his neck. "You know, you're awful at this kind of conversation."

I tilt my head to the side. "Is that so? What's that on your neck? Did you trip and fall?"

"Stop it!" says Alec in a panicked voice. "Is it really that obvious? You're stressing me out."

"My job is to be a pain in your ass," I remind him.

Alec sighs. "Sadly, I think that's true." He hands me a thick packet with papers in it. "Magnus wanted me to give these to you."

I groan at the stack and set it on my table. "This weighs nearly a hundred pounds!"

His mouth quirks up into a classic Alec smile. "His job is to be a pain in _your_ ass," he reminds me.

I nod absentmindedly. My eyes linger on the couch behind Alec. The couch I kissed Clary on. We didn't get a good chance to talk after I kissed her, and we haven't done it again. _Was it just a one time thing?_

It couldn't be. It can't be. She had to have been able to tell how much I meant each kiss, right?

I need to call her.

"You're thinking about Clary," sighs Alec.

My head snaps up. "What?"

He rolls his eyes. "You always get that weird look in your eyes when you're thinking about her. Go on. Call her."

I shoot Alec a glare, but my hands fumble for my phone as if they have a mind of their own. I'm dialing her number before I can even register what I'm doing.

She picks up on the second ring. "Jace." She sounds almost breathless.

I want to take her out somewhere. To dinner. A nice, planned out meal. But instead, the words that spill from my mouth are, "What are you doing right now?"

"I'm with Simon at Prospect Park." Clary pauses. "I'm working on art."

Internally, I feel an irrational flash of jealousy. But I suppose their ship has sailed. "Oh."

When she replies, her voice is softer and almost nervous. "But...I'm really not doing much right now." And that, to me, sounds like an invitation.

"Meet me at Taki's in half an hour," I tell her, and she replies quietly before hanging up. I toss my phone down and lean back in my chair.

Alec lifts an eyebrow at me. "Jace, what's going on? You're acting really weird. You're never like this about girls."

"Nothing's different," I tell him, even though it's obvious that something is. There's just _something_ about Clary.

He sighs and sinks into one of my chairs. "Jace."

I shake my head at him. "I don't know what you're getting at, but whatever it is, you're wrong."

Alec grins. "Aha," he says gleefully. "Now I've gotten you all defensive." He checks his watch and stands. "I've got to go. I'm meeting Magnus for lunch."

" _Magnus_ ," I say with a smirk. "Give him my regards."

He blushes. "Fine." And then he's gone.

I pull out my phone and stare at the screen. I'd really like to call Clary again, but that would seem desperate, and I'm not desperate. _Am I?_ I pull up my internet app and search _jace herondale girlfriend._ I've never seen any of the pictures that the cameras have taken of us.

Several of the first hits are old, girls long gone, ones who I never cared much about anyways. But there she is - her fiery curls and her green eyes. And she's with me. Walking with me in Central Park, laughing at something I said, and then kissing me in the alley. Well, I guess _I_ kissed _her._ But no one looking at this picture would ever guess that.

 _I miss her._

But I never miss anyone except for Alec, perhaps, if he's off on a family trip. I've never missed anyone like I miss Clary, and I saw her this morning. I suppose I'm used to her being here, always just a room away. Where even if I couldn't touch her, I could see her.

And now I just really, really want to do both of those things.

* * *

 **Sorry this chapter took kind of a long time to get out. Per usual, I'm busy, and I wasn't very inspired for this one. It's more of a filler chapter. However - happy October! I'm thinking of having some Halloween themed chapters later this month (or earlier if I have no self control and just need to write them).**

 **A cat may be coming into this story in the near future.**

 **Thanks for reading! You guys are the best. Drop me a review if you liked this chapter, and have a great day or night!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Clary**

"You care," says Isabelle from behind me, looking amused. It's not fair that she gets to look so effortlessly beautiful when she hasn't even changed out of her sleep clothes yet. Her hair hangs in a casual bun that somehow looks red carpet ready, and her eyes look large and dark even without makeup framing them.

I frown at her. "What? I'm not allowed to pick out an outfit?"

She grins and throws herself down on my bed. "You are," she says with a light laugh. She looks over the pile of clothes I've set at the end of my bed.

"Ugh, Iz," I groan at her, burying my face in my hands. "You're making me sound like a ridiculous teenage girl dressing up for her first date."

"Well?" Isabelle says, holding up a plain gray shirt I've tossed down. "Is it a date?"

I give her a look. "What are you talking about? I guess so, right? Like...a fake one."

She sighs and rolls off of the bed, strutting over to my mirror and brushing loose strands of hair from her face. "I think we're beyond that whole all-of-this-is-fake thing, Clary. Now tell me everything."

"Izzy, I suck at girl talk. Let's not."

"So practice and get better." She tosses me a dark green top she bought for me for Christmas a year ago. "Wear this."

I glare at her but pull the shirt on. It's not the kind of thing I'd ever buy for myself, but it's pretty - the color of pine needles, and made of a soft fabric. The sleeves are made of lace the same color, and stop just before my elbows. I'm not sure if I've ever worn it. "What is there to say?"

"Simon said you guys were making out," she deadpans.

She laughs as I whip around to stare at her. "What?"

Isabelle rolls her eyes. "It's not a big deal, Clary! But please, just tell me everything. I want to know what you've been up to."

"Fine," I huff. Maybe it is better to just tell her and get her off my back. "We...kissed."

"AHA!" yells Izzy so loud that I'm afraid everyone in the entire building has heard her. I motion for her to be quiet but she continues. "CLARY FAIRCHILD MADE OUT WITH JACE HERONDA-"

I smack her to cut her off. "Please, Iz," I beg. "Keep your voice down. My _brother_ lives across the hall."

" _My_ brother lived across the hall from me for my whole teenhood," says Izzy. "Jon definitely doesn't have it as bad as Alec did."

I groan at her. "Ew, Iz, I don't need to know these things. Besides, you aren't helping."

"It's not like no one knows," she replies easily, brushing my hair from my face. "You were in an article about it. Ugh," she continues. "You're just as bad as Alec."

"What is he doing?"

Isabelle turns back to the mirror. "Well, he won't admit to me that he's dating Magnus, even though it's pretty obvious that he is, and I think he's still in denial over the whole fact that he likes boys, and he won't admit it to himself or to anyone else." She says it all on one breath and draws in another before saying more. "And then you're over here, kissing Jace Herondale and going on dates with him, and you're so stubborn that you can't even say that you like him when it's just obvious that you do." She frowns at me.

"I'll wear the shirt," I reply, and make for the door.

"Clary," says Isabelle, catching my arm before I can leave.

I turn back to her expectantly. A wicked smile spreads across her face. "Don't do anything I wouldn't."

I say the last words over my shoulder as I leave. "That'd be pretty hard for me to do, Iz."

* * *

Jace gets to Taki's before me, even though he had to make the trip all the way from Manhattan. He's sitting by himself in a booth with a New York Yankees baseball cap pulled down low over his face to hide it. But I'd recognize those golden curls anywhere. I slide into the other side of the booth and he starts, looking up at me. "Clary," he says.

"Hi," I say in a small and squeezed voice.

I watch his throat bob as he swallows. "Look, I wanted to talk to you about-"

"Can I get you something to drink besides water?" interrupts the waitress. She leans over onto the table and glances between us, pulling the end of her pen between her teeth. Her lips are stained a bright pinkish-red.

"I'll take black coffee," I tell her. She jots it down on her notepad before turning to Jace. I try not to notice the way she straightens her back and sticks her hip out to the side.

She leans in towards him. "What about you, honey? Same as your sister?"

Jace, who I've never seen look so unnerved, shakes his head with an uneasy laugh. "What? No. She's uh...she's my...she's not my sister."

"Oh," says the waitress, looking slightly disappointed.

"I'll take the same," he says tiredly, and she saunters away from the table.

I twist my hands on the tabletop. "So? What was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

Jace lets out a long breath before resuming his usual smirking expression. _Cocky ass,_ I think, and I'm surprised to find myself thinking it with affection. "Well, we never talked after we..." he trails off. He knows he doesn't need to finish.

"Oh," I say. The waitress returns and sets our coffees on the table, along with a bowl full of little creamer cups even though we said we'd take it black.

He shakes his head at me. "By the Angel, if I don't just say it now, I never will." His golden eyes trace my facial features like he is trying to map and remember every inch. "I want you to be my girlfriend. Like...my _real_ girlfriend."

* * *

 **Jace**

Her face colors and her lips part. _I shouldn't have said it,_ I think in dread. It's probably all too much, too fast for her. I shake my head and let out a tight laugh to try to diffuse the tension. "You know what? Never mind. It was a dumb idea, I'm sorry..."

Then her face splits into a grin and she tosses a ten dollar bill onto the table. "Let's go," she says.

"What?" I watch her and she rolls her eyes.

"I said, let's go." I grab the dollar bill and shove it back at her, pulling out one of my own and slapping it down instead. She tilts her head to the side. "I can pay."

"But I wouldn't be a gentleman if I let you, would I?" I stand and pull her out of her seat. My heart feels like it's about to burst out of my chest. _This means yes, doesn't it?_

Clary whirls around to face me. "You're not a gentleman anyways," she teases. Her face softens by a fraction. "Did you really think I wasn't going to say yes?" The bell on the door jingles as we push out of the diner and onto the busy street.

"Well, I had my doubts. But I am stunningly attractive, so I'd say that wouldn't be likely."

She leans in so her lips brush my ear when she speaks. "Cocky," she murmurs against my skin.

"You think so?" The hairs on my arms lift. Only Clary can do these things to me. I lean in to press my lips to hers but she pulls away. "What's wrong?"

Clary shakes her head. "Nothing. It's just...if we are really _dating_ -" she says it like she's trying out the word for the first time, "- maybe we don't need to do everything on camera."

I grin at her. "Privacy," I say. "You want privacy."

She blushes. It makes her freckles blur together. "Well, when you say it like that it sounds ridiculous!"

"No, it's not," I say. "I barely get any privacy. I want you to have it, as much as you want." I still ache to shove her back against the wall and kiss her so hard that her lips bruise, but I settle for folding her small hand in mine.

"Simon and Izzy are out," she says, then looks away like she's embarrassed.

I don't ever want her to be embarrassed about anything. I give her hand a squeeze. "Do you want to go?"

Clary looks up at me, and her emerald eyes are wide and bright, like the precious stones they remind of of. She nods.

* * *

I've never been inside of Clary's apartment simply to be there with her when she's actually invited me over. The whole thing is about the size of my kitchen, which makes me feel a little bit guilty. I should pay for her to move somewhere nicer. Or, she could just move in with me. _Where did that thought come from?_

"Make yourself at home," she says, heading into the kitchen. Well, I guess you could call it that - it's nothing more than a small refrigerator, a small oven with two burners on top, a sink with dishes scattered across the bottom, and a microwave plugged into an outlet on the floor. She turns to face me. "Do you want anything to drink?"

I look around the small space. "Just water, I guess," I tell her.

She fills two glasses with water and passes one to me. Clary shakes her head. "I'm sorry. This must seem so dingy compared to your place."

"Hey," I tell her. "I like it. Because there's traces of you here. And anywhere you've left your mark is a place I want to be."

Color flares in her cheeks. I reach for her, my hand abandoning the glass on the counter, and kiss her softly. And kiss is the right word for it - something light and sweet and feather-soft. There isn't a word for the other kind, the ones made in desperation as if the other person may be gone at any moment. Her hands slide up to cup the back of my neck, and I grin against her lips. She's soft against me, and smells likes paint and coffee and Clary. _My Clary._

I reach around her waist to pull her to me, going slowly so she doesn't feel like I'm rushing anything. I don't ever want her to think that. The shirt she's wearing is soft and smooth, allowing my hands to glide across the surface. Our lips separate and she leans her forehead against my shoulder. "You're wearing white," she says softly. "You always wear black."

I look down at my plain white t-shirt. "Usually," I reply.

Her hands reach up and flatten on my chest, pressing the fabric against my skin. My heartbeat quickens. "What's that?" she asks, running her fingers across the skin just over my heart. A shiver runs up my spine.

"My tattoo," I reply. My shirt is light enough that the outline of it is barely visible through the fabric.

She traces the area with her thumb. "I didn't know you had one. What is it of?"

The left side of my mouth lifts into a small smile. "I'll show you." I grab the hem of my shirt and pull it up and off of my head, exposing the black mark on the skin over my heart.

Clary pulls her lip between her teeth and reaches forwards to run her hand over it. "What does it mean?"

I look down at it too. It's a simple symbol, a single line forming a diamond with the top lines crossing and curling outwards. "It's a reminder," I tell her. "To be brave, and to be the best, and to leave weakness behind."

"Emotions aren't weaknesses," says Clary.

"I never said that it was about emotions," I reply, a bit shocked.

She gives me a smile that's almost sad. "You didn't have to." And then I'm not sure who leans in, but her lips are on mine again, and this time her hair is brushing against the exposed skin of my chest. I press my palms to her back to press her against me as we stumble back through the apartment, out of the kitchen. Her knees hit the edge of her tattered couch and we half sit, half fall onto it. Clary laughs into the kiss as I gently bite at her lip, listening to the way her breath catches like she's surprised -

The door opens and someone lets out a shocked grunt. We break apart and I see Isabelle, Simon, and Clary's brother standing in the doorway. Oh, lovely. Now her brother will always hate me. "My _eyes,_ " moans Jon from the doorway, looking slightly sick. "Please go somewhere else to do these terrible things."

* * *

 **Jace's tattoo is the angelic power rune, if you guys didn't pick up on the description of it. I tried my best but it's kind of a hard thing to describe. Anyways: yay! A new chapter. This one was kind of hard to write for some reason but it's here. I've been pretty busy with theater this week as well. I'm not sure if I've mentioned which show I'm in - we're putting on Into the Woods! It's super fun so far. I'm in almost every scene so there is a lot a lot of choreography to learn, practice, and remember - and all the music I have to sing while doing it! Today's rehearsal was really fun though. I get to be lifted cheerleader style for one scene!**

 **Of course, if you liked the chapter, leave me a review. They really help me figure out what you guys like and want more of.**

 **Also, to the person who "dropped" a review last chapter - I laughed and spit out my tea.**

 **And oops. This chapter is so unnecessarily long for no reason. *shrugs***


	17. Chapter 17

**Clary**

It feels good to be productive again. I lean back against the counter of Midtown Comics and survey the display of comics I've just rearranged. The only other person here is Jordan, who has his phone linked up to the store's speakers. His alternative rock echoes around the empty store. "If I started a band," he muses from the stool behind the cash register, "would people listen to the music?"

"If it's good," I reply, tossing him a look. "Why?"

Jordan shakes his head. He's let his hair grow out again, and it hangs in artfully tousled waves across his forehead. He wears only a simple green t-shirt today, so the tattoos winding around his arms are very visible. "Don't get me wrong," he says. "I love working here. But...my calling really isn't just working at a comic store. I want to do music. Music that helps people." His fingers twist the medallion around his neck. He wears it every day - a simple silver disc with a pawprint in it and the words _beati bellicosi_ inscribed along the bottom.

"Well, I'll go to all of your gigs," I tell him, swinging myself up to sit on the counter. I reach under the counter and grab one of the granola bars Simon always keeps down there. I wrinkle my nose. Why does he always buy the blueberry ones?

He leans back on the stool, making the front legs pull up from the floor. "Does Simon still play guitar?"

I can't help it - I start laughing. "You and Simon jamming out? Now that's an image."

"Hey!" he protests. "We'd be the best looking band in Brooklyn."

"You sure about that?" I inquire, and then we both start laughing.

I carefully tear open the packaging on my granola bar. I haven't talked to Jordan in a long time. He's such a nice person, the kind of guy your dad would want you to bring home at Thanksgiving. Well, except for the tattoos. And only if you have a normal dad. "What's going on in Jordan's world?" I ask him.

He sighs. "Well, Maia's brother is in town," he explains.

"And that's a...good thing?"

Jordan's hazel eyes flick up to meet mine. "I don't know. She doesn't want to talk to me about it, but I can tell that there's something wrong. And now she's taking time off of work, and I don't know whether it's to spend time with him or to avoid him." He pauses for a beat. "I'm worried about her."

I consider it. "Well, all I can say is that we should keep an eye on her. If she's exhibiting any of the signs of..." I trail off lamely before finishing, "distress, we should get involved." I can't help it - the thought makes me shiver. I hope things are alright with her brother. I can't imagine what I would have done if Jon hadn't been there for me. Maybe dad would have killed me too. Or maybe Jon wouldn't have been there to stop me from -

 _Don't think about it don't think about it don't think about it._

I try to change the subject to a lighter one. "So...you and Maia, huh?"

Jordan's face takes on a small smile. "Well, I'm not sure. I asked her to dinner, but she thought it was just as friends. But then...well, we've kissed, but she refuses to talk about it and I don't know how she feels."

"Well, she's a fool if she doesn't see how great you are," I tell him honestly.

"Not as great as Jace Herondale," says Jordan with a good-natured smirk.

I feel my cheeks flush. "What?"

"Hey, maybe he can rep my band," suggests Jordan.

I toss my half eaten granola bar at him. He catches it and takes a bite. "I take it back," I tease. "You're insufferable."

The phone in the back room rings. Jordan stands. "I'll get it," he says, and disappears behind the door to the storeroom.

The door to the shop opens and I look up to see a middle aged man comes in. He has a plain black hat pulled down low over his eyes, so I can only make out graying brown hair sticking out from under the brim. He doesn't seem to pause to look at the comics on the shelves. He continues forwards at an eerily slow pace, his footsteps echoing around the quiet store.

"Do you need help with something?" I ask, and my voice sounds too loud.

"You're the one who will need help," he says, and finally looks up at me. I push down a gasp. He has a long scar running over his face, and his eyes are bloodshot and angry.

I slide my fingers around the phone in my pocket. "What?"

He sneers at me. "This is the only warning you're getting. I want you to stay away from Jace Herondale. Your place is not at his side. Do you understand?"

"No," I snap, my stubbornness getting the best of me. "You can't come in here and threaten me like that. I'll call the police on you."

The man lets out a cough. "Go ahead. They'll have fun trying to find me." My thumb dials _9-1_ on my phone.

Jordan comes back in through the back door and the man gives me one last glare before exiting the store swiftly. "Who was that?" Jordan asks.

I breathe out slowly. It was probably a one time thing. No need to call the police or get anybody else involved in this mess. _Especially_ Jace.

"No one."

* * *

 **Jace**

I pull my cigarette between my teeth. Alec has tried and failed hundreds of times to get me to kick the habit. He's supposed to meet me here soon, so I should probably let it burn out, but I always hate stomping out cigs before they reach the filter. The media had a huge whirlwind about a year ago when they found out that I smoke, but it's died down enough for me to do it in public again without getting slandered. Ever since, fans at meet and greets or even just on the streets have begged me to quit, or handed me nicotine gum. I just don't understand why they care so much. It's my life.

Filming for Magnus' movie, _City of Bones,_ starts one week from today. Alec is coming to give me the second copy of the script. I've glanced over the first copy, and it looks pretty cool. I wonder if Clary will like it. I hope so.

"Oh, by the Angel, stamp that thing out, will you?" groans a familiar voice from behind me. I press my shoulder into the wall outside my building and turn to see Alec standing on the sidewalk, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his over washed, once-black jacket.

I smile angelically at him. "Alexander. Good to see you."

He makes a face like I've punched him - his lips pull together into a surprised pucker and his forehead wrinkles. "Don't call me that. Anyways, you saw me this morning."

"I know," I tell him. "But no one can get enough of Jace Herondale." I take another long drag off my cigarette.

Alec rolls his eyes at me. "People can, and I suspect they will. And, if you keep referring to yourself in the third person, I _will_ schedule an appointment with a psychiatrist for you." Before I can move or protest, he reaches forwards and plucks the cigarette from between my lips.

"Hey-" I protest as he drops it to the sidewalk and drags his foot over it several times. I scowl at him. "What was that for?"

He gives me a wry smile. "It's a dirty habit and it will kill you. You'll thank me one day. Or at least, your lungs will." Alec removes his foot from the destroyed cigarette and shakes his head at me. "Does Clary know that you smoke?"

"Why would that matter?" I snap. She wouldn't care, would she?

Alec's eyes slit. "Well, _some_ women don't want to date men who smoke."

"Since when do _you_ know so much about dating women?" I ask him. But would Clary be mad if she knew? I'll try to bring it up casually...

He shakes his head at me. "I'm gay, not a moron. Here." He reaches into his bag and pulls out a thick packet of papers with the words _City of Bones - Main #1 Script_ written across the front.

I open the pages and read out a random line Alec has taken the liberty of highlighting for me. "'If you wanted me to rip my clothes off, you should have just asked,'" I recite. I screw up my nose. "That's my line?"

The corner of Alec's mouth turns up. "The kids will love it. You know that they will. And don't act as if you don't enjoy ripping your clothes off."

"It is one of my specialties," I admit. "Though they will need to be careful censoring my attractiveness. I wouldn't want to cause fainting or lust to any moviegoers. Maybe I'll try out that line on Clary later."

He slaps his hands over his ears and steps back. "Let's put that at the _top_ of the list of things I don't want or need to know. Hm," snorts Alec. "You are far less attractive than you think."

I let my mouth fall open in mock surprise. "Don't tell the media."

He rolls his eyes at me and folds his hands in front of him. "Oh, I almost forgot to mention. Izzy is trying to set up you and Clary on a date."

"We're already dating," I remind him. "Anyways, I am a master planner of dates. I could write a New York Times bestseller on it. I don't need help."

Alec lifts an eyebrow at my comments but says nothing. "Well, then consider this a warning." He sighs, as if remembering an old memory. "When Izzy gets her mind on something, there's _almost_ nothing you can do to change it. She always gets when she wants."

"Almost?" I inquire.

"Almost," agrees Alec. "Because, you know, you could always die. She couldn't plan a date for you if you were dead."

I let my face fall into my telltale smirk and wriggle my eyebrows at him. "So what has she done to you?"

"No," moans Alec, burying his face in his hands. "We don't talk about this."

"We do now," I say, and he looks up at me to give me a glare.

Alec looks away. "It might not be a bad idea. Izzy knows Clary pretty well. It could be something different. Though, watch out. She's a hurricane, that one." All this talk of Clary has got me itching to see her again. More than anything, I want to kiss her right now, in a place where there are no doors to be barged through, no interruptions. Just me and Clary and anything she wants.

"Isabelle or Clary?" I ask.

He grins. "Both."

* * *

 **Hello guys!**

 **New day, new chapter. I'm learning Welsh right now (thanks for the idea Will and Cecily haha) so to all of you beautiful readers out there - _nos da._ It's night for me, so it's fitting here. I'm driving all of my friends crazy by talking in Welsh 24/7. **

**You know how this works; if you liked the chapter leave me a review! I love to read them.**

 **brynn0708: Wow. I'm glad I was able to write something you could relate to. I hope your sister is doing well, give her all of my good graces!**


	18. Chapter 18

**Clary**

"Invite Jace over," begs Isabelle. "Me and Simon will be out all day."

I shoot her a glare and tuck the pencil I'm using behind my ear. "Jesus, Iz. It's not like it's been months since I've seen him last. Only a few days."

"Five!" she protests, gesturing around the soon-to-be-empty apartment. Well, empty except for me. Isabelle pulls her lips together into a pout. "Jace would thank me. You know he would." She grabs my phone and tosses it to me, raising an expectant eyebrow.

I let out a huff and scowl at her, but obediently open my text conversation with Jace.

 _Do you want to come over to my place? We could go out too, but Simon and Izzy will be out today if you want to come over_

"Are you happy?" I ask Isabelle. She's surveying herself in my mirror. She's dressed to impress today. She's got her favorite ripped jeans on with a lacy black top that's practically just a bra and a reflective windbreaker tossed carelessly over the whole ensemble. Isabelle looks like she's just stepped out of a teen magazine cover shoot.

She grins at me. "Yes. I am." She blows me a kiss. "Have fun." I hear the door open and shut. Simon and Izzy are gone.

I look back down at my phone and see that Jace has replied.

 _when should i come over?_

Despite myself, I grin, covering my mouth with my hand even though nobody is here to see me.

 _Whenever you want_

It only takes him six seconds to reply.

 _b over in 20_

* * *

I open the door when Jace knocks. He's standing outside of my apartment, dressed in his usual black t-shirt and jeans. His hair is slightly damp, like he's just gotten out of the shower. It turns his usually golden curls into a darker bronze. He flashes me a bright grin. I run my tongue over the front of my teeth. Why are his so perfectly white and straight?

"Can I come in?" he asks, lifting an eyebrow.

I realize I've been staring and blush, looking away. "Oh...yeah, of course."

He looks amused as he slides past me into the apartment. I slowly re-lock the door and slide the security chain into place. When I turn around, Jace is in front of me, tantalizingly close. He must have used soap that smells of lavender, because the soft scent surrounds me. Somehow, Jace makes lavender on a man seem cool and hip. I imagine Simon using lavender shampoo and try to suppress a grin.

"What is it?" Jace asks, reaching for my hand with one of his. The other absentmindedly curls my hair around his fingers.

I shake my head up at him. "Nothing. It's just good to see you." I lift myself up on my tiptoes to kiss him - he's too tall to do so otherwise - but his eyes are focused on my fingers.

He runs his thumb along my palm, rubbing some of the graphite staining my skin off. "What is all of this?"

"I was drawing," I reply. "I'm working on the next issue of the comic. Well, the issue _after_ the next issue."

Jace lets loose a radiant smile. "Can I see the first draft?"

I huff at him. "Well, Simon would kill me if I did, but I'm sure I can make one exception." We make our way over to the couch. My cheeks warm when I remember what we were doing the last time we were on it - the image of Jace's tattoo has been burned into my mind ever since. I pull out the sketches I've been working on and pass them to Jace.

His eyes roam over the images on the paper. I watch them, and my hands itch to grab some paint and record the exact gold color of his eyes. "Who's this?" he asks, pointing to the main character. In this scene, her red hair flows around her shoulders as she lifts her sword, Heosphoros. Stars glitter the length of the silver blade.

"That's Seraphina Fray," I reply.

"She looks like you," he says with a small smile. His focus moves to the blonde warrior at her side. He's my favorite character to draw by far - golden hair and fiery eyes and a smoldering smirk. "And this one?"

I smile down at the page. "That's Jonathan Wayland," I tell him. "He's named after my brother."

"Is Jonathan his full name?" Jace asks, grinning down at the page.

I nod. "Yup. Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern."

He starts at the word 'Morgenstern.' "Morgenstern?" Jace repeats, setting my drawings carefully back in the folder.

His golden eyes meet mine. "What?" I ask.

"Nothing," he replies, his fingers finding my waist. "I used to know a Morgenstern, a long time ago. He's dead now, though." Jace pauses. "Why does your brother have a different last name than you?"

My mind whirls, a mishmash of different images - Jon's face, pale with youth and fear, holding me close in our bedroom when I had nightmares; the face father used to make when he lifted his hands to strike me; my mother's soft smile in contrast to the dead look in her green eyes like mine when she would give up. I shiver. "It was my dad's last name," I say quietly, breaking out of my thoughts. "Jon kept it. I didn't. Fairchild was my mother's last name."

Jace's face goes paler. "I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't mean to -"

"It's okay." I fold my legs up onto the couch next to me. "It's...nice, actually. To have someone that knows who isn't Jon or Izzy or Simon."

He gives me a long look before leaning in and capturing my lips with his. I try not to think of all of the other lips he's kissed, all of the other girls who have been where I am. But he is good at this in a way that I didn't know people could be - every touch sends a thrill of nerves down my spine and speeds up my heart. His lavender scent wraps around us both, and as I slide my hands up into his wet curls, I realize I haven't felt this safe in a long time.

* * *

 **Jace**

She pulls back and grins at me. I brush her hair behind her ear. "If you do want to go out, there's a movie theater down the street," she suggests. "If...you know, people like you go to movies."

"'People like me?'" I repeat in mock surprise.

Clary's cheeks turn light pink, the color of the first blooming flowers in the spring. I feel the sudden odd urge to leave a light kiss on the top of each of her cheekbones. "You know. Actors."

I can't help it - I grin. "Yes, we do. I just haven't been on a movie date since high school."

She turns her head to lean it against my chest. I wonder if she can hear my heart beating against her cheek, if she registers how fast it's going. "Oh?" she says. I watch her lips form the words. "And what was that like?"

"Exactly what you'd think," I say with a light laugh. "I was a sophomore. She was a senior. I don't remember her name now, but it might have started with an L. But...well, one thing led to another."

Clary props herself up and turns to look at me. Her face is unreadable. "Do you still want to go?"

I reach forwards and brush the hair from her face, letting my thumbs linger on her cheekbones. "Yes. What's in theaters right now?"

"We could go find out," Clary says, and pushes herself up off of my chest, standing and walking to her bedroom. I feel her absence with the cool rush against me when her warmth is no longer there. I get up and follow her. She's digging through a pile of sweaters at the end of her bed. I lean in the threshold of her door and look around.

I've never been inside Clary's room. It's small, and the walls are painted a warm orange, like a muted version of her hair. I didn't know they let you paint the walls in apartments. Maybe it came this way. Her bed is pushed up against the wall, where a miniscule window looks out over the street. Christmas lights connected by white wire are pinned up along the wall, illuminating the space. Drawings and photographs are attached to the light wires with clothespins here and there. The nearest one is a picture of Simon and Clary wearing some sort of superhero costumes at a convention. Clothes and books and art supplies lie haphazardly around the room, a comforting kind of messy that means someone lives there.

She looks up to see me standing here and blushes, pulling a dark green sweater on over her head. The color makes her eyes look even brighter. "Oh, I'm sorry. It's a wreck in here."

"No," I tell her, walking in. There's a knit orange and white rug on the ground beneath my feet. "I like it."

And when she looks up at me with those big doe eyes and opens her mouth to reply, I don't let her - I press my lips to hers instead, and hold her there.

* * *

"You don't like superhero movies?" says Clary incredulously. "No one dislikes superhero movies."

"They're so cheesy," I protest.

Clary purses her lips. "Well, we could always see a horror movie," she says, letting her eyes turn sideways to meet mine with a hint of challenge gleaming in their emerald depths. "You know. If it isn't too scary for you."

I scoff. "Scary? Ooh, Fairchild, I thought you could have figured it out by now. I am a brave and valiant man who cannot be shaken."

She laughs a little. I love her laugh, the way it is so light it could be carried on the wind. "Prove it."

Five minutes later, we're seated in the theater. We're here early, so the movie won't start for another ten minutes. Clary convinced me that the best spot to sit is right in the center of the theater, though it isn't where I'd usually sit. Actually, I wouldn't usually be here at all. I haven't been in a movie theater for years. The room is empty except for four teenage girls near the front and a middle aged woman with a high bun towards the back. Clary's just slipped her fingers through mine when my phone goes off.

"Sorry," I tell her. "I should get this."

She nods and I stand, leaving the room and standing in the odd hallway just outside. I pull out my phone and look down at the screen. I squint at the name to make sure I read it correctly before picking up. "Mom?"

"Jonathan," she sighs into her end of the phone. "Is now a good time to talk? I don't mean on the phone."

I glance back towards the theater room where Clary's waiting. "Um..."

"Good," she says firmly, as if my answer had been clear. "I've been wanting to talk to you about something for a while now, and if I don't do it soon I know I'll never get the nerve to do it."

"Mom, what is it?" I say into the phone. Something about her tone is off.

She lets out a long breath before replying. "Well...it's about your father, Jonathan. Or rather...who he is."

* * *

 **Hmm...I wonder what Celine is up to...**

 **Anyways, major plot twists and more angst coming soon to fanfiction near you. Hah. I hope you guys liked this chapter. If ya did, you know the drill - leave me a review because they really do brighten my day :)**

 **Also, here is a note regarding many reviews I have gotten for Limelight. A lot of people have been asking for smut or asking when there will be lemons. The answer is: there will be no lemons or smut in this story. It is rated T and not M for a reason. If you are here for smut and lemons I'm sorry, I just feel like it challenges the integrity of my story. In no way am I bashing any writers who do include this in their stories. This story will not be so conservative as to include only kisses and hugs, but no lemons will be included. I'm sorry if this disappoints any readers! I personally do not think smut fits into this story or any of my writing. Again, I apologize to any of you who were expecting this from my story. I hope those of you who were hoping for lemons are still able to enjoy Limelight the way it is and will continue to be.**

 **If any of you have questions about this leave a review or shoot me a DM and I'll reply.**


	19. Chapter 19

**Clary**

"Oh, by the Angel," I groan, pushing my unruly curls from my face. "Your mom, Jace? I don't know what I'm supposed to wear."

I toss myself down on my bed and shrug off my sweater. "It doesn't matter," he tells me. "Mom won't care what you're wearing, I promise." He grins over at me from his spot perched against the wall by my small window. He's holding one of my old sketchbooks in his hands and idly flipping through it.

I give him a look. "I can't just meet your mom out of the blue wearing jeans with _paint_ on them." I reach down and pick at the flecks of color staining the front of my pants. How can he expect me to show up to meet his mother looking like I just came out of my studio? And when we've only been dating for a few days? I succeed in chipping off a speck of orange paint and flick it away.

He walks over and sits next to me on the bed. "Well, I think you look beautiful," he says. "No matter what you wear."

I feel my cheeks flare. "You're so good at this stuff," I mumble.

"Good at what?" he asks, reaching out to pull my hair between his fingers.

"This," I tell him, waving my hands between us. "It's like you're quoting a movie or something." I narrow my green eyes and lean in playfully. "You're not, are you?"

He grins and brings his hands up to cup my face. "Wouldn't dream of it." Jace closes the gap, leaning in and capturing my lips with his own. There's something different about this kiss - something in my chest has been hollow and empty, and each moment I spend with him makes it feel less and less so. It's a feeling I wasn't even aware I had until now, but suddenly I feel the need to fill the gap for good, to never feel hollow again.

I press my hands into his chest, allowing him to lean back a little, until he rests on his elbows back on the bed. Jace pulls back a little and lifts an eyebrow at me but says nothing. He reaches up and wraps his hands around the back of my neck, his long pianist's fingers running down to rest along the top of my spine. Suddenly, my back is against the bed and he's above me, his lips pressing insistently to mine like he, too, has an emptiness he's trying to fill.

His hands smooth down over my shoulders, running lightly along my jawline. His lips follow, tracing lightly across my chin and down to my throat. I let my hands snake up into his hair. In the light of my room, it looks truly gold, like something valuable and rare and not to be touched. But I can touch it all I want. He leans back, and I take in his face - the angular planes of his face, the glow to his tanned skin, the glimmer of humor in his bright lion's eyes and the gentle set of his mouth. He is beautiful in a way most people aren't.

I clear my throat and smooth his hair back down into it's usual soft waves. "Let's not be late," I tell him, grinning.

Jace's mouth takes on a lopsided smile. "Of course not." His eyes travel down the length of my bed, landing on the small stack of clothes tossed there. He lifts out a plain gray shirt that used to be Izzy's. "She likes gray," he says, his eyebrows pulling together.

"I'll wear it," I tell him, and kick him out of the room so I can change.

* * *

My hands are grossly sweaty by the time we reach the small cafe where Jace's mom is meeting us. I really commend Jace for holding one of them anyways. We're seated next to to each other in a booth, and he seems nervous too - he keeps shifting in his seat.

The bells on the door jingle as a woman walks in. She looks young, almost too young to be Jace's mother. Her hair has no gray and hangs in light blonde curls around her face. She has a lot of his features in her expression, but her eyes are light green, unlike his gold. She spots him and a small smile curls her sloping pink mouth. "Jonathan," she sighs, sliding into the booth. For the first time, she seems to notice me. "Who is this?" All of the color drains from her face. "Jocelyn?" she says in a shaking voice.

My blood runs cold. "She was my mother," I say quietly.

Her ashen face turn back to Jace. "I thought we would talk alone."

He finds my hand under the table and squeezes it. "Anything you need to say can be said to both of us," he says. He tilts his head. "You knew Clary's mother?"

"A lifetime ago," she says in a faraway voice, her green eyes suddenly unfocused. They snap back to absolute clarity when she sees me again. "Jonathan, I need to tell you about your father." _Jace's name is Jonathan?_

"What about him?" Jace says, an ounce of hardness entering his voice.

His mother casts a worried glance at me and lets out a long, sad breath. "I'm sorry, Jonathan. I've always wanted to tell you, but I couldn't make myself do it. You know, when I had you, it was before I was married to your father. And...well, I knew Jocelyn and her husband." Her eyes lock with mine and her small mouth smooths into an expression of resistance. "We were pregnant at the same time. And when we gave birth, we weren't sure if...I'm not sure if..." His mother suddenly looks old, far beyond her years. "We weren't sure if I brought home my baby or Jocelyn's. We didn't mean to give them the same name."

"Jonathan," I say, and my voice cracks. "Jonathan Christopher?"

Jace's eye find mine. He looks like he's about to be sick. I don't blame him - I am too. "J.C.," he says, and his voice is hollow. "Jace."

His mother looks between the two of us. I break the silence. "Jace might not be your son."

"No," she says. "But...at the same time...even if he is, he still might not be..." She trails off and looks away, her eyes glassy with tears.

Jace's grip on my hand tightens. "So what are you saying?"

She bites her lips anxiously before continuing. "I don't think Stephen is your father. I think it was Valentine Morgenstern."

* * *

 **Jace**

The words hit me in the gut first, then the heart, then the hands. They shake uncontrollably as I pull them out of Clary's. Morgenstern. Valentine Morgenstern. Her dad. My dad. I stare at her, at her bright green eyes and her wild red curls I love to run my fingers through, and the freckles decorating the delicate neck I was kissing not an hour before. My... _sister?_

Mom stares at us. "You're his daughter," she breathes, as if just reaching that conclusion. "Oh, I'm so sorry, if I had known..." _She's his daughter, just like you're his son. Even if you have different mothers._

Clary leaps out of the booth without another word and stands, running rough hands into her hair. She heads towards the door on quick feet. "Jonathan, wait -" says Mom. I turn around for a second to look back at her.

"After all this time," is all I can get out, and then I run after Clary, who's already halfway down the street. She's shoving through the crowds as if she can't get away fast enough. Away from _me._

"Clary, wait!" I call after her, and finally catch her, grabbing her arm and effectively spinning her around. She looks up at me through those big green eyes. Her face is pale and her hands shake. My skin where it touches hers burns, so I let go. "Just - just wait."

She shakes her head at me. "You're my brother," she says in a voice like I've just hit her. Those three words strike me, like knives twisting into the spaces between my ribs.

"Maybe not," I say, and my voice sounds pleading. But pleading for what? For her to understand that there's nothing wrong with the way we feel, even if the world says everything different? Or am I pleading with myself for the same reason? On my own accord, I reach forwards and my hands close around her arms.

Beneath my grip, she is warm and small and shaking like she's cold, or afraid. "Everything we've done," says Clary, and now her voice shakes too, "it can never happen again."

She pulls out of my grasp and tries to walk away again, but I don't let her. "No one has to know," I say, and even to my own ears, the words are feeble. Clary turns back to me.

"Jace. People _would_ know. It would be...it would be sickening to the people we know!"

I pull my hands away from her. _Sickening._ She thinks it's sickening, the way I feel about her. The way I thought she felt about me. "If that's how you feel," I say, and mean to say more, but my mouth has gone dry and my fingers itch for a cigarette or a glass of liquor.

"There are tests," says Clary softly, almost to herself. "You...you and Jon could take DNA tests and find out. If you're my brother, or if he is, or if...if you both are."

"Fine," is all I say, and then she turns away and I don't go after her, because if I did I don't know what I'd say or do.

* * *

"Jace!" Alec's voice yells through the door. He continues to bang on it, and I glare at the door, even though he can't see me through it. "Open the door. Jace!"

I growl and slam my empty glass down on the table before unhooking the security chain on my door and swinging it open to see Alec standing on the other side, his blue eyes bright but weary, his mouth set but firm. "What are you doing?" he asks, striding in through the door.

I slam it shut behind him and turn to face him. "So can I do it or not?" I snap at him.

"By the Angel, you smell like a dive bar," says Alec, cleverly grabbing my glass off the table before I can refill it again. "Now tell me again why you need to take a DNA test? This is weird, even for you."

I almost can't say it. But out of everyone I know, Alec is the one who could come the closest to understanding. "For Clary," I say, and I don't feel angry anymore, just drunk and hollow and empty. "I met with my mom this morning. She told me that Clary is probably my _sister._ "

Alec's eyes widen and he leans back against my couch. "Oh, Jace..." he says, and sets down the glass on the table. "She's your sister? And Jon is your brother?"

"Maybe," I say, my eyes traveling sideways to look out the window. "Or maybe, Jon is me." I don't even notice that my cheeks are wet until Alec's hand closes on my arm, a comforting pressure. I don't appreciate him as much as I should. When was the last time I thanked him?

He doesn't ask what I mean. Instead, he wraps his arms around me, and I listen to the steady beat of his heart and wish that mine would just stop.

* * *

 **I'm sorry guys.**

 **But yup, this happened. For the person that asked what movie Jace and Clary went to see. There wasn't one in particular, though I'd like to think that it was a vintage movie specially in theaters for Halloween time.**


	20. Chapter 20

**Clary**

"She's not talking," says Izzy from the other room. "I don't know what happened...maybe it had something to do with Jace? But when we came back she was just laying on her bed and she won't reply when we try talking to her..." I let her voice drift into my room through the door she's left cracked. And I do want to talk to her, I really do.

But what would I say if I did? A sick feeling twists in my gut. I've already thrown up once, and would again if anything remained in my stomach.

"Let me try," answers Jon. Izzy must think it's pretty bad if she brought Jon over to see me. She knows how he gets when he thinks something's wrong with me.

The door to my room opens and then shuts, and then familiar footsteps approach the bed. I'm curled towards the wall, so I can't see him, but I can smell black pepper soap, a classic Jon smell. The smell of my _real_ brother. "Clary?" his voice is soft, like he's trying not to wake me.

I make the effort to turn over and look at him. He must have come over in the middle of shaving his jaw, because a small line of stubble still decorates the bottom of his left cheek. But I can't shut Jon out too. I reach for him and he holds me, his breath ruffling the hair on top of my head. "It's Jace," I say softly into his shoulder.

Jon pulls back a little bit, anger starting to color his expression. "He hurt you? I swear to God, Clary, if he so much as laid a finger on you -"

"Not that," I interject quickly. "It's just...he's just..."

His eyebrows pull together in a concerned expression. "You're not obligated to do anything," he says firmly. "If you're ever uncomfortable at any time, you have the option to say you don't want something."

 _But what if that's not the problem?_ I ache to say. _What if the problem is that all I want is him and now I'll never have him again?_

"I met his mother," I tell Jon. "And she told us that she was friends with Mom and Father before we were born."

Jon's muscles tense and he gives my hands a reassuring squeeze. "Is that what this is about? Our parents?" His fingers begin to pull up the edge of my sleeve at my wrist, running along the thin skin there. _Checking,_ I think bitterly.

"Not exactly," I mumble. "She said that she named her son the same thing as theirs. Jonathan Christopher."

His mouth pulls into a tight line. He hates being called Jonathan, hates any reminder of our past. The same way I hate being called Clarissa. "And," I continue, "neither of them were sure if they brought the right baby home." I look up at Jon. "Jace is my brother."

Jon doesn't cringe the way I expected him to. Instead, his expression grows bitter. "No, he's not." His green eyes grow darker as he looks away. "I look just like Father, don't I? There's no way he isn't my dad."

"That's not all," I tell him. "Jace's mom was having an affair with Father before she got pregnant."

He sits still for a moment, and then his eyes flash and he jumps to his feet, beginning to pace. His hands stretch out and then tighten into fists as he does so. "God _damn it,''_ he snarls, and punches the wall.

"Stop," I tell him, but my voice comes out feeble and weak.

"That asshole didn't just beat Mom. He _cheated on her_ too." He lands another blow on the wall. I hate it when he gets like this. Once in a while as kids, Jon would get so angry he would hit things until I took them away from him, and then he'd hit himself. I still remember the bruises I'd see on him the next day when I couldn't prevent him from doing it. I still remember begging him to cover them up, even if it meant wearing sweaters on hot summer days, so we wouldn't be moved to a new foster home.

I jump off of the bed and grab his arm before he can make a third strike. "Jon, stop it!"

My voice seems to break him out of his anger. His tight expression softens and he pulls me to his chest. His heartbeat thuds against my cheek, faster than usual. "I'm sorry," he says, his hand smoothing down the hair at my back. "What can we do about it?"

"There's always DNA testing," I say, and I refuse to let myself hope that he isn't my brother when the chances so strongly suggest otherwise.

Jon looks down at me through worried green eyes. "You want me to take one too?"

I nod. "If..if you don't mind."

"There's nothing I wouldn't do for you," he replies, a hint of darkness entering his expression.

I shiver. "Okay. How am I supposed to tell Jace?"

He lets the smallest shadow of a smile pull at his lip. "We can tell him together. Okay?" His expression grows a bit more serious. "I don't blame you. You didn't know." Jon leans down and plants the whisper of a kiss on my forehead before pulling back. "Now come on. Let's go get you cleaned up."

* * *

 **Jace**

 _Clary wears a white cotton dress that flows shapelessly downward to kiss the skin above her knees. Her curls flow wildly around her face, a pale oval framed with fire, and it almost seems to have a life of it's own - the tresses lift and twist about her face like she's underwater. Her green eyes are like beacons, as if I'm a long lost ship and she is a lighthouse's beam slicing through the fog. Her feet are bare as she walks towards me, swaying on her feet slightly, like she's dancing to a song I can't quite hear._

 _"Jace," she says when she's close enough to touch me, and she does. Her hands land on my chest, her long fingers clean of paint and light and soft against the white cotton of my shirt. I see myself reflected in her big eyes - blonde hair lifted by the wind, jaw shaved clean. I take one of her hands and lift it, pressing each finger to my mouth in turn. She hums a light melody and rests the side of her face onto my chest, just over my heart. I let my hands wander across the thin material of the dress she wears, fitting at her waist, and she tilts her face up to kiss me._

 _Somewhere in my mind, something is wrong, but I don't care to find out what it is. She is soft against me, and her lips taste like fresh strawberries and cream. She's still humming against my mouth, and the tune is familiar but I can't place it. "Clary," I say, and my voice sounds free to my ears, as if it is a tangible thing that I could see if I looked hard enough._

 _"Mmm?" she murmurs, fingers trailing up the back of my neck to tug gently on the hair there._

 _"What song is that?"_

 _She just smiles sweetly and leans in for another kiss. Everything is right, the way it should be, and that's when I remember that Clary is my sister and I shouldn't want these things. Oh, but I do. All I do is want. Even so, I pull back from her. Clary's green eyes widen in confusion. "What's wrong?"_

 _"This isn't right," I tell her softly, but the words feel fake and untrue on my tongue._

 _Her face goes from calm and at ease to tight and hurt. "I thought you liked me," she says. "I trusted you, and this is how you repay me..." Her voice fades away and so does she, slowly melting away into the air._

 _"Clary!" I call, reaching for her to keep her here with me, but she is a mere outline now, as thin as smoke, and when I reach out the last imprint of her disappears. I'm alone, and suddenly it is so, so cold._

My eyes snap open and, as if I'm looking into a kaleidoscope, the room rearranges itself back into view. My head pounds angrily, and I vaguely remember falling asleep here on the couch. The bottle of vodka I've made a decent dent in through the past day sits beside me, gleaming innocently in the midnight lights. "Shh," I tell the bottle. "Don't scare her away."

The image of Clary sticks in my eyelids, even if I only saw her in a dream. Even so, her soft smile is already fading in my mind. "Don't leave," I say out loud. But she does anyways, until I can't even remember what it is she was wearing in the dream, or even pinpoint the melody she was humming. I lean my head back again and grab the bottle, lifting it to my lips. The first bit has just gone down when someone knocks on the door.

Who is here so late at night? I scowl and stand, stumbling a bit as the room spins again. It's probably Alec, here to steal all of my liquor and force me to take a shower. I swing open the door and snap, "Now is not a good-" My voice dries up in my throat when I see the very green eyes I've been dreaming of staring up at me.

"You said it was okay," says Clary, and her voice is small and tense. I register a hand wrapped around her waist and fire shoots through my veins. Who the hell is with her this late at night? My eyes travel up and I see Jon standing behind her, his face full of disapproval. Jon. Her brother. My brother?

I look down at my phone. I guess I did text, though I don't remember telling her it was okay for her to come over. Not that it isn't. It always, always is. "It is," I say, and lean back on the doorknob to let them come in. Jon gives Clary a warning glance and she twists her hands in front of herself.

"We won't be staying long," she says. "I just wanted to come to..." Her voice fades away like it did in the dreams. "The earliest appointment we can get for DNA testing is four days from now, and results take another week after that. If that's good with you." I try to look for hope in her eyes, or any emotion. I can't see any.

"Okay," I say, and I want to say more, but I'm afraid of what might come out if I open my mouth.

Jon squeezes Clary's shoulder. "Can I have a minute alone with Jace?" he asks her. She nods and disappears down the hall and into the elevators without another glance at me. His green eyes, alike to hers but colder, latch to mine. "Is this how you are with her?"

"What do you mean?" I ask, crossing my arms. The room begins to swim again, and the bright lights in the hall are beginning to hurt my eyes.

He frowns. "You smell like a frat party. You're very obviously drunk. And I just don't know if I want my little sister hanging around a guy who's going to be like this. Can't you see how much it upsets her?"

I try to remember how she looked at me. I can barely picture it. "I'm not," I reply, "usually drunk. Anyways," I add bitterly, "I guess you're in luck. One DNA test away from being butted from the family, aren't I, brother?"

Jon's eyes flash. "Don't call me that," he says sharply, and turns down the hall after Clary. I lean against the door to shut it and sink down to the floor. I keep imagining that Clary will get out of that elevator and run back down the hall and knock on my door and come in, and let me kiss her until neither of us can think.

But she doesn't.

* * *

 **I am so sorry! This chapter literally took me weeks and weeks to write and update and edit and everything. I have been so extremely busy as of late, and pretty uninspired as far as this story goes. I am going to try my hardest to finish it. Opening weekend for my show was last weekend, and I have five shows in a row starting tomorrow so I probably won't get another chapter out until a few weeks more. Again, I'm so sorry that this is taking so long. You all deserve the world and I mean it! If anyone is still reading this story, thank you!**


	21. Chapter 21

**Clary**

Time has never gone so slowly. I lose myself in my art, knocking out the next few issues of the comic in just a few days. I've also been drawing for myself, my personal escape. As of the last week or so, though, my art has all been coming out all wrong. The floor around my bed is littered with crumpled drawings I didn't have the energy to throw out.

Simon sits with me as I draw and talks for hours, at which he so excels. It's nice to have him there, when I know he expects nothing of me but to do what I need to do.

Jon comes over each day to remind me to eat lunch, even though he's an awful cook. Thank God it's the last day of this seemingly endless period of not knowing. "You know I hate eggs," I groan at him. I know I'll get nowhere with this argument. Eggs are the only things Jon knows how to make and _not_ burn. Today he's added spices and chopped onions to the eggs, but that in no way makes them more appetizing to me.

Jon quirks an eyebrow at me. "You've got to eat something, Clary." His eyes flick down to my hands, stained with graphite and paint. Pages spread out beneath my fingers, covered with light sketches for the seventh issue of the comic, and atop those, my newest sketch. My drawings have always been an embodiment of how I feel when I make them. This one is dark and smudged, showing just the simple outline of a girl. Jon has been eyeing it with a worried stare all morning. "And you're working too hard."

"I'm just getting ahead," I protest as he slides two eggs onto a plate and hands it to me. I grumpily shove a bite in my mouth and wash it down with a glass of the cherry flavored seltzer water that Izzy always keeps in the fridge.

He leans back against the countertop and crosses his arms. "How are you feeling?"

I slump in my seat. "I just want," I swallow. "I _need_ to know. And I'm tired of sitting here not knowing if you're my brother or if _he_ is..." An involuntary shiver runs down my spine.

"Hey," says Jon walking over and settling on the stool beside mine. "I doubt that I'm not related to you. And," he adds, "Even if you don't belong to me by blood, you'll always be my little sister."

The corners of my mouth lift into the shadow of a smile. "And you'll always be my big brother." And it's true. It was Jon who held me as a kid when I cried, and who sat with me for those awful three days in our room, and who found our parents with me. It was him who bandaged my wrists and did everything he could for me after I decided to give up.

He grins. "Finish your food. We have some answers to go get."

* * *

It's a cold day, and the wind cuts like knives through my thick sweater, the one Simon got me last year for Christmas. There are little knit patterns of letters all over it, which Izzy used to say makes me look like a walking dictionary. It's almost time to don a winter coat. I've pulled my hair up into a ponytail, but the wind still catches strands of it and blows them around my face, where they occasionally stick to my cheek or forehead. We can't be far from the first snow. Jon, however, simply wears a dark gray t-shirt that makes his silvery white hair look even more shockingly pale.

"Aren't you cold?" I ask, wrapping my arms around myself.

He casts an amused glance down at me. "No." But even as kids, Jon was always unusually warm. I can still remember climbing into his bed when I was little during long winters when the house was cold to take advantage of it. We reach the lab that's tested our DNA and Jon opens the door for me so I can go in first. The waiting room is small, and the walls are painted a pleasing burgundy. Sitting in the corner is a boy with his head down in his hands, golden curls spilling out from between his clenched fingers. My breath catches in my throat. Jon's hand finds my back, a gentle and reassuring pressure, and guides me to sit on the couch opposite to Jace's.

Jace looks up as we sit, and I can't help but to notice how awful he looks. Has he eaten at all in the past week? His cheeks look hollowed and there are dark circles beneath his eyes. He looks gaunt and only half conscious. Even so, there is something beautiful to him, the way the decay of urban things are beautiful. I press my lips together to keep from gasping. "Clary," he says, and his voice rasps when he says it, like he hasn't used it in a few days.

"Jace," I breathe back, because I can't think of anything else to say.

He looks up at Jon and clears his throat nervously. I've never seen him anxious like this before. I suddenly feel a surge of longing for the old Jace, cracking jokes and throwing around smirks as if everyone is blessed to be near him. "Can I," he says, and then pauses, as if wondering whether he should continue. "Can I talk to Clary for a minute?"

Jon looks at me and I nod my head. "Yeah," he says, and stands. "I'll be back in a few minutes." He casts one last look at me, as if analyzing the situation, and leaves the waiting room.

Immediately, Jace's hands dart forwards and take mine. I can't find it in me to draw mine away. "I need to say something," he says. "And if they tell us that I'm your brother, remember that I'm saying them before we knew for sure."

* * *

 **Jace**

She looks wary, but of course she should. I would too, if I was looking at myself. I caught a glance at myself in the mirror before leaving today, and I don't think I've ever looked worse. I open my mouth to speak, but she beats me to it.

"Have you eaten anything?" she asks softly, and her small hand lifts to rest gently against my cheek.

I shake my head. "I haven't been hungry," I tell her. It's true. How can I have an appetite when all I can think about is how the one thing I want is the one thing it is impossible for me to have? How can I eat when all I want is to kiss my sister until she sees how I feel?

The past week has been a nightmare. Even Alec seemed to sense that nothing was going to make a difference. He had to tell Magnus Bane I had come down with an illness to excuse my presence from the movie board. He came over most days to bring me coffee and take away my alcohol and cigs. I don't deserve him. I really don't.

To make things even worse, my mom kept on dropping in as well, fussing over me and begging me to take a shower. Acting like nothing has changed even when she's just dropped what might as well have been a bomb on me. She stopped coming when I blew up at her, though. I know I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help it. It was all just too much and too fast.

I realize that Clary is still staring at me, her green eyes wide and unsure. Her eyebrows pull together in worry. Her fingers fall from my face. "Clary," I begin, and my heart thunders in my chest. This could go terribly, very fast. "If they tell me today that I'm your brother, I'll be your brother. But." I almost can't bring myself to keep going, but I force myself to, because I will never forgive myself if I don't. "But for now, I can't be your brother, not when I'm supposed to protect you from the sorts of boys who want to do to you, what I want to do to you."

She gasps and her green eyes widen. "Just for these last moments of not knowing," I say, and I'm not even sure what I'm asking for. But then, somehow, her lips are on mine, and I pull her close to me and try to show her how much this means, exactly how important she is to me. The idea of losing this sends me into a panic, but even that is hard to think about when her soft lips are against mine.

My hands slide up, one to cup the back of her neck and the other to fit at her waist. I taste salt and pull back. A single tear has traced it's way down her cheek. "I'm sorry too," she says, just as Jon comes back in. Clary hurriedly brushes the tear away before he can notice. He settles back down on the couch next to her and I try to look as un-guilty as possible.

Jon takes Clary's hand and gives it a light squeeze as a woman in a simple pale coat walks in. "Jonathan Morgenstern, Clarissa Fairchild, and Jonathan Herondale?" she asks, her watery eyes travelling around our group.

"Yes," replies Jon.

The woman smiles pleasantly and holds out three folders to him. "I'll leave you to distribute these. If you have any additional questions, give me a holler." She turns around and is gone.

Jon passes Clary her packet first, then mine. I feel my heartbeat pounding in my fingertips as I open it, and part of me doesn't even want to do it. That part of me is afraid of what's inside. But I still remember what the father I knew taught me. To love is to destroy, and I will not let myself be destroyed. And oh, how true his words have proved to be.

My eyes skim the results on the page. No relation to Jon. And no relation to Clary.

* * *

 **This chapter was really short, I'm sorry. But I promise there is a lot of stuff coming, even if it's taking me a minute to write it all out. Good news though - the play is over so I will have more time to write!**

 **As always, thank you for the reviews and reads. It really means a lot to me! xoxo**


	22. Chapter 22

**Clary**

Jace's golden eyes are shadowed as he looks down at me. My fingers itch to reach forwards and touch him, but I don't let myself. No, we need to talk. I still can't rid my stomach of the sick feeling that's been harboring there for the past week or so.

My apartment is silent. Simon and Izzy are at work, and I convinced Jon that I would be fine by myself. And anyways, there are so many things left to discuss here. "Clary?" asks Jace quietly. His eyes flicker over my face. Searching for something? I can't tell. His curls hang around his face, disheveled from running his hands through them one too many times. He is still devastatingly attractive, and it almost hurts. As if it couldn't be more obvious how opposite we are!

"Wait," I tell him, even though he hasn't done anything. He freezes and I squeeze my eyes shut and lean back against the wall. The world is bearing down on me, crushing my shoulders and my lungs. It's all too much. Is this worth it? "I thought you were my brother," I say to him.

His fingers slide gently against my jaw, lifting my chin. My eyes flutter open to meet his gaze. "And I thought you were my sister," he says, though his tone is a bit confused as if he can't quite imagine what I'll say next, what I'm hinting at.

"Exactly," I tell him. His eyebrows pull together. I look away from him, because I can't watch those smoldering eyes, can't watch the light fade from them as I speak. "We thought we were related. Brother and sister." My throat closes up so I swallow before I continue. "Don't you think that's just a way of the universe telling us that this-" I gesture between us, "-shouldn't happen?"

Jace's eyes widen. "What?" He sounds hollow. Whatever he thought I was going to say, this isn't it.

"I just don't know if this was ever meant to work out! I mean..." I trail off and blink a few times before continuing. "You're _Jace Herondale._ And I'm just a nobody from _Brooklyn_ , of all places!"

In my periphery, I see him flinch as I say his name. "But you aren't my sister," he says, and his voice has taken on a pleading tone. "Please, Clary - look at me."

And I can't bring myself not to. I turn my head and see all the things I was trying to avoid. The hurt so evident in his golden eyes, the way his tan skin has gone pale. "I'm terrible at this," he says quietly. When did our faces get so close together? His breath tickles my cheeks as he speaks. "I've never cared like this. I've never _wanted_ like this. I just...I don't know how to say it."

"I know," I say softly, and let my eyes trace the fair features of his face, take in all of the things I know I can never have again. "But I had time to think, you know. And I still can't shake this _feeling_." A shiver runs down my spine.

His fingers rest lightly on my shoulders. Heat spreads across my skin from the contact, and I can't manage to shake him away. "What feeling, Clary?"

"I feel dirty!" I snap, and feel tears begin to prick at my eyes. I don't need a mirror to know my cheeks have gone red. "I thought I'd kissed my brother, but it didn't make a difference to me, and I still _wanted_ -" I break off. "There's something wrong with me."

His fingers tighten on my shoulders. "No," he says, and his voice is hoarse. "It wasn't your fault. Wasn't our fault. And we aren't related. You're not my sister!" Is he trying to convince himself that there's nothing wrong with this situation, or me? "Please," he continues, his voice cracking. "I lo-"

"Don't say that," I tell him. The words burn and turn bitter as they leave my mouth. I tear myself from his grasp and turn away from so he doesn't have to watch the first tear escape my eye. He gasps, a quick noise that reflects the burning sensation in my eyes. His hand closes around my arm and spins me around. For a moment, we just stare at each other. Even now, I ache to reach up to him and bury myself into him until I can never come out again. Then his expression become stony and he leans back. I know that his walls have gone back up.

"Say no more," he says, and then turns away.

 _Wait._

His hand closes around the doorknob and he flings the door open.

 _Stop._

He looks back at me, and for a moment, the stoniness lifts from his face like he expects me to object. I bite my lip so I won't open my mouth, bite my lip until I taste blood. Jace's eyes take on a darker hue and he strides into the hallway, slamming the door behind him without another backward glance.

 _Don't leave._

* * *

 **Jace**

I can't remember the last time a girl didn't want me. Hell, I can't remember _any_ time a girl didn't want me. Her words echo in my ears with each step I take. _I don't know if this was ever meant to work out._ But why not? Maybe I should have stayed, even when it was so clear that she wanted me to go...

My cell phone begins to buzz in my back pocket. I halt my quick steps and yank it out. "What?" I snap into the phone.

"Easy," says Alec's voice from the other line. He sounds exasperated. "Please try to look presentable. The cast dinner is tonight and you can't miss it. Don't make me come and drag you out the door."

"What cast dinner?" I ask, pressing the palm of my hand into my forehead. I can feel the beginning throbs of a headache coming on, knocking against the inside of my skull.

I can almost feel Alec's glare through the phone. "I've been taking to you about this for a week. Haven't you been paying attention to anything I'm saying?"

The honest answer is no, but I won't say it. My mind has been too occupied with red hair and green eyes that there hasn't been space for thoughts of anything else. He takes my silence as my answer. "By the Angel, Jace," he sighs. "Do I need to smack you in the face to get you to listen to me?"

"I'll go, I'll go," I snap. "Where is it?"

Alec pauses. I imagine him chewing his lip before he answers. "Magnus' loft."

Something in his voice is off. "What's wrong?" I ask him.

"Nothing," Alec replies in a short voice. "Just...be there, please?"

"I will be," I tell him. "And if you decide to talk about what's wrong, feel free."

There is silence on the other end of the line for so long I wonder if he's hung up and I missed the click. Then, "Thanks."

* * *

Presentable?

Alec is going to kill me.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I can't remember the last time I've looked so awful. Even though I tried to style my hair, it looks overly messy, like I slept on it while it was wet. Dark circles shadow the undersides of my eyes. My black sweater makes my skin look sickly pale. I scowl at the gaunt boy in the mirror and tear the sweater off, tossing it away. I don't want to wear that one, anyways.

I easily turn away from the mirror and pick up my favorite black sweatshirt. My hands shake as I remember that this is the sweatshirt Clary borrowed right after I met her, when I spilled a drink on her shirt. I hold it to my nose and inhale, hoping for a hint of that paint-and-coffee smell I miss so much. Nothing. I pull the sweatshirt on anyways, and avoid the mirror as I leave the room.

So maybe I'll be late to the dinner. But I need to clear my head before I go or I won't be able to focus on anything anyone says all night. I sink down onto my couch and open my phone. The paparazzi pictures of me and Clary pop up on the screen. There she is, standing next to me and smiling at me while I'm looking away. Laughing at something next to me. Wrapped in my embrace.

By the Angel, I can almost feel her next to me. I groan and push my hand across my forehead, letting the phone slip from between my fingers. What was so wrong about us together? I set my jaw and stand. It doesn't matter. She's gone, and it doesn't seem like she'll be back. I shove my phone into my pocket and tuck a cigarette between my teeth, letting the door slam behind me.

* * *

"Need a drink?" asks Magnus Bane when he opens the door for me. He looks tired too. The blue glitter on his eyelids doesn't seem quite as startling as usual, and his usual pointy hair is uncharacteristically flat. A glass of something dark amber in color dangles from his long fingers.

"Does it show?" I grumble, walking past him into the loft. Other cast members are in various spots around the room, sipping drinks and laughing and talking. It makes me feel angry and tired all at once.

Magnus shuts the door behind me and tilts his head. "Where's Biscuit?"

My heart seizes in my chest. "Not here," I reply, and look around the small space. "Where's Alec?"

"Alexander is avoiding me," Magnus says. I look back at him in surprise and he casts a look at me. "Well, I suppose you know him better than I do. In _most_ ways."

"O-kay," I say back, looking up at the ceiling. "I'll pretend I didn't hear that. Where is this drink you speak of?"

He gives me a tired smile. "Needy, needy. I'll go get it." Magnus saunters away back into the crowd. I find a relatively quiet corner and sit on the edge of Magnus' purple patent leather sofa.

I lose myself in staring out the window, and startle when a hand lands on my wrist. I look up to see Aline Penhallow leaning over me. She, as usual, looks effortlessly glamorous - her slanted eyes are done up pleasingly in warm brown tones, her inky black hair hangs in a glossy curtain around her shoulders, and she wears a soft brown sweater with denim pants and heels. "Jace Herondale. I don't remember you being a wallflower. In fact, as I remember, you're quite the opposite."

"I'm not in the headspace for a party," I tell her.

Her eyebrows pull together. "Rough day," she states. "I had one too." She tilts her head to the side and brushes a tuft of curls from my face. "Say, then, why don't we get out of here? They can't say anything if both leads leave early."

I can stay here, miserable and alone in a crowd, or go with Aline. The choice I want to pick is not there, so I'll take the next best option.

"Let's go."

* * *

 **So...that's unfortunate. But I have a *feelin* that things will get crazy soon. Wink wink. Haha.**

 **Instead of writing the research paper and essay I need to write for school I wrote this chapter because it is time to procrastinate. Also, if anyone here is good at Algebra 2, I suck! Help a girl out if you wanna.**

 **Malfoy Mouth James - Thank you so much for your review! It made me smile. I hope I didn't take up too much of your time, haha!**


	23. Chapter 23

Four Weeks Later

 **Clary**

I lean my head into my hand and knot my heels together behind the counter at Midtown Comics. It's snowing for the first time this year outside the window, but it's too cold for the snow to stick to the ground. People rush by the window wrapped in brightly colored coats. I painted the windows yesterday - one with Christmas garlands, the other with blue and silver stars for Hanukkah. Inside the store, it's warm and quiet. I'm the only one working today.

I look back down at the sketches on the counter in front of me. No matter how much I try, each drawing turns into a familiar pair of golden eyes, or tousled curls, or slender pianist's fingers. My fingers skate gently over the graphite, smudging it a bit.

Oh, Jace. I haven't seen him since I ended our relationship - in person, anyways. He's been all over the tabloids, grinning and smirking in that untouchable way, side by side with Aline Penhallow. Each time I see those pictures, my memories of him seem faker and faker, as if I imagined them and they never existed at all. I pinch the edge of my drawing and begin to crumple it slowly into my fist. Of course, it was never going to turn into anything real. How could it?

The bells hanging against the door begin to chime gently, and a rush of cold air sweeps through the store. I look up, quickly tossing the sketch into the waste bin, and see Jordan walk in, shucking off his olive green coat as he does. "Jordan," I say in surprise. "I thought you didn't have to come in today."

"I don't," he replies shortly, tossing his coat onto the shelf under the counter. When his gaze meets mine, I see that his hazel eyes are wild. "But I needed to be somewhere, and this was the first place that came to mind." He buries his face in his hands and sinks down onto the beat up chair next to my stool.

"Jordan," I say, a bit unsettled. "Are you okay?"

He looks up at me and runs his hand through his hair, his face taking on a desperate look. "Oh, God, Clary," he says. "I can't get over her. She's all I've ever really wanted."

My heart stutters in my chest. "Maia?"

"Yeah," he breathes. "But she's made it all too clear that she wants nothing to do with me."

The pain in his voice brings stinging tears to my eyes. I haven't cried in a while. I suppose it's all of the things that have gone wrong, building up inside of me and finally spilling over. "I know how you feel," I tell him softly. "And if she can't see how great you are, you're better off spending your love elsewhere. You're a good guy, Jordan."

"Maybe," he says. "But it doesn't matter. No matter what I do, she's all I can think about. I just need a _distraction._ "

The sudden need to be held and to feel close to someone else wells up in me and I reach out for his hand. He looks up in surprise, and we both pause for a second. Then Jordan reaches forwards too, past my hand. His hands close around my waist, drawing me off of my stool and towards him. I'm so short that we're basically the same height when he's sitting. My heart strikes up a nervous rhythm. But stronger still is the need to be close to someone. One of his hands lifts to cup my face, and he draws my face down to his. His lips brush gently across mine, so lightly that they barely touch.

Then it's like we both come alive, both of us desperate to feel something. His hands snake around me to crush me against him, and the kisses become hungrier, filled with want and desperation, fueled by the fires of loss. "Jordan," I gasp against his mouth. He pulls back, panting, face set in a worried expression. "Someone might see," I say, glancing towards the large windows to the street.

"Right," he says, and thinks for a moment. Before I can fathom what's happening, he places one hand behind my knees and one beneath my shoulders and lifts me.

"Jordan!" I laugh as he carries me towards the back room. The door to the small storeroom shuts behind us, and everything is pitch black. I reach for the light switch but Jordan's hand grabs my wrist before it can get there. He sets me down on top of what feels like a stack of boxes, but I'm so short that my feet still dangle instead of hitting the floor.

His lips find mine again in the darkness, fast and needy. I let my hands wander to his hair, which is a bit longer than Jace's. And maybe, if I focus hard enough, I can pretend that the lips on mine are his...

But I should not be thinking about Jace right now. But I can't do this - not when the lips I want to kiss are splashed upon billboards and magazine covers, smiling at me from the screen, but never in person. Not ever again. I gently pull back away from Jordan and flick the light on. "I'm sorry," I tell him.

Jordan leans back and sighs. "I'm sorry too. I thought I needed a distraction, but...it's just not any better."

"It's not," I agree quietly.

He throws me a quirky grin. "You're not a bad kisser, Fairchild."

"Not bad yourself," I toss back at him, hopping off of the boxes. He nudges me with his shoulder and turns to look at me before I can open the door.

"Still friends?"

I smile at him, even though a bitter cold feeling is sweeping through my veins, spurred by the thoughts of Jace.

"Of course."

* * *

 **Jace**

Aline passes me a mug of coffee with a grin. "So," she says, taking a sip of her tea. "On a scale from one to ten: how much money would you pay to keep the tabloids from coming up with ridiculous rumors about you?"

"Anything," I groan.

"At least you don't have to put up with pregnancy reports!" She laughs. "According to tabloids, I've been pregnant for about five years. It's really very miraculous I haven't given birth yet." Her dark eyes narrow a little bit at me. "What are you thinking about?"

 _Clary_. "Nothing," I reply easily, and let my gaze slide out the window next to Aline. I convinced her to come with me to Brooklyn for coffee.

Aline smiles. Today she's wearing one of those fancy jackets all the girls are wearing, but it looks especially nice on her. I wonder how it would look on Clary. But I shouldn't be thinking about that. Not when I'm out with my girlfriend. "I have to go meet my friend in twenty minutes," she tells me, glancing at the time on her phone.

"Which friend?" I ask.

Her cheeks go pink. "Oh. Um, my friend Helen. You've probably never heard of her, or seen her, or...oh, now I'm going on and on again." She laughs nervously and takes a large sip of her drink.

I smirk at her. I've never seen Aline be anything but calm and orderly. "Helen, huh?"

"I haven't seen her in forever," says Aline, a wistful light taking over her face. "We used to be so close. Then I started getting roles, and then we just kind of fell out of touch."

Have I lost touch with anyone? My family, I suppose. I still have Alec. _Clary._ "It's good that you're seeing her, then."

"Oh, would you be mad if I left now? I'm a little bit nervous." She hops out of her seat, looking slightly embarrassed. It's a new side to Aline.

"Of course not," I tell her. She smiles and leans in, pressing a quick kiss to my lips before leaving the cafe. I can't help but to think about how different her lips feel than Clary's did when they were pressed to mine. Her words to me still echo in my head each day, and haunt my sleep. I thought dating Aline would make all of those desires fade, but if anything, it's made them worse.

Don't get me wrong, Aline is a great girl. She's beautiful and funny and easy to talk to, but... _but she's not Clary._ I scowl into my mug and finish my coffee in a long swig before leaving. Clary's comic book shop is just down the street from here. Is that why I chose to come to this cafe? No. _Yes._

The urge to kiss her, or talk to her, or even just see her, is so strong. I will just walk by, look in through the window. She's probably not even there right now. But there's no way I can think or do anything else until I do this. My feet begin to move at a brisk pace towards the shop. The first thing I see are the windows - they're painted beautifully in precise brush strokes and bright, cheery colors. I don't need to ask to know that the art is Clary's. But then I look through the windows.

Clary stands behind the counter, locked in a close embrace with a shaggy haired boy. And he's _kissing her_. My blood turns to fire and I am vaguely aware of my hands tightening into fists at my side. I want more than anything to burst in through the door and yank him away from her, get rid of him and everyone else until it's just me and Clary and nothing else. I want to get rid of him so I can kiss her, and show her how kisses should be, so she can never think of kissing anybody else.

But I'm frozen, and I can't tear my eyes away from the awful scene. He keeps moving his lips against hers, and she just keeps standing there -

And then she pushes him away. I press a tight breath from my lungs. So she is going to turn him down. Relief begins to flood through my veins. Tension runs from my limbs and I take another slow breath to calm myself. But the relief turns to ice when she whispers something to him and he lifts her up, carrying her away from the counter and disappearing with her behind a door.

I feel like someone has just punched me in the face. Clary, Clary, Clary. By the Angel, what is she doing kissing that asshole? Who is he? Where did he even come from anyways? Then guilt rises up in my chest. I should not even be here. I am dating Aline.

I grit my teeth and turn to the wall, landing a few hard blows there. When I finally still my fist it is stained with grit and bright blood. I reach into my pocket and take out a cigarette, pushing it forcefully between my teeth and lighting it quickly.

Maybe if I keep smoking cigs, one after the next until I can't breathe, I'll just die, and have nothing to worry about ever again.

* * *

 **First thing's first: I am sorry I did not answer the questions regarding the name of the story in the last chapter! I planned to but I was so excited to post it that I forgot to. It is not based on that song, I am not familiar with it. Usually I get the idea for a story, write the first chapter, and then come up for a title. They're usually pretty bad, to be honest! I chose "Limelight" for this story because it seemed like it kind of fit the main conflict in the plot. Second: sorry it has been so long since I've posted a chapter! There are new twists coming up so stay tuned.**


	24. Chapter 24

**Clary**

I stroll into another one of the boutiquey-type stores that seem to be popping up all over Brooklyn. All of them have very similar interiors - painted brick walls, parasols hanging and spinning lazily overhead, gaggles of Christmas shoppers clad in warm clothes stuffed inside to escape the biting wind. These are the kinds of stores that Jon likes to shop at, but I haven't found anything that looks _Jon_ enough yet.

Brooklyn is decorated for the holiday season. Garlands line the shopfronts, lights wind their way up the streetlamps, and the windows of some stores have been painted. I painted the ones at Midtown Comics not too long ago, and a few of these ones as well - it is a nice way to pick up some extra money for the holiday season. One of my own works winks at me from a window across the street.

I turn away from the window and begin picking my way through a pile of light gray sweaters when I feel someone tap on my arm. I turn to see two teenage girls standing behind me, obviously trying very hard and failing at not grinning. One has pale skin with straight hair the color of corn, while the other has mocha colored skin and short hair the color of maraschino cherries. They both have pink cheeks from the cold. "Excuse me," says the paler one. "Um, we were just wondering if you're Jace Herondale's ex girlfriend?"

The words strike me like a blow. "What?" I say, aghast.

"You know," the other girl giggles. "The one from the interview. You look just like her."

I feel my cheeks turning as red as her shocking hair. "Oh. Um...no?"

They both launch into identical fits of laughter. "Oh my God! It is you!" The first girl grins at me. I am reminded, suddenly, of all of the girls who would make fun of me in middle and high school. Now it's different. There's no Jon here.

"Did he dump you or did you dump him?" queries the second girl in excitement. They're speaking so loud that I can see the heads of the other shoppers in the store turning in our direction. I would really rather be anywhere else.

"I have to go..." I start, gazing helplessly over their heads towards the door. No snow sticks to the sidewalks but a fine layer of gray and brown icy grit lines the street.

The one girl nods sympathetically. "Oh, he dumped you, then. How do you feel about him dating Aline? Also," she begins to laugh so the other girl steps in to finish her thought.

"Also, how is he? Hot or sweet?"

My cheeks are so hot they feel like they're burning. I should have never done anything with Jace. This was ultimately what it was going to lead to, wasn't it? Being Jace Herondale's ex and nothing more than that. "Sorry," I tell them, and quickly push past them out of the store. The cold wind fills my lungs and I exhale gratefully, hurrying down the street in case the girls decide to follow me.

For all my life, I never thought I'd be recognized from the stupid interview! Curse all of this. I rush along a few more blocks and take refuge within the wonderfully familiar Midtown Comics.

Simon sits behind the counter with his earbuds in and his Nintendo DS in his hands. He doesn't hear me walk up behind him so I quickly stick my ice cold hands down the back of his sweater.

"Jesus - ow - Fairchild!" He leaps from his seat, his glasses falling sideways on his nose. "I thought you were Christmas shopping?"

I groan and seat myself easily on the counter, stealing the takeaway cup of coffee from next to Simon's hand and taking a long sip. Simon fixes his glasses and gives me a long look. "I can't tell if that means 'I didn't find what I want' or 'something has gone terribly wrong'."

"Closer to the second one," I reply easily, pouting at Simon as he grabs the coffee back from my grasp. He settles back onto the stool and lifts his eyebrows for me to continue. "Okay. I've been recognized."

Simon bursts out laughing and I kick him in the side. "Ow!" he protests.

"It's not funny!"

"Yes it is!" He grins up at me. I am having a hard time frowning at him. "You come in here acting like you're in the witness protection program and you've been discovered."

I glare at Simon, but now I'm smiling a little bit too. "Okay, it's not that bad. Why did you have to jump to that scenario?"

He makes his voice low and foreboding. "One can never be too careful."

" _Simon,_ " I groan. "How can I hide myself? Would they still know it was me if I...I don't know, cut my hair or dyed it or -"

His arm closes around my wrist, tugging my hand away from my hair. "Clary," he says, and now his voice is serious. "You don't need to do any of that."

I stare helplessly back at him. "There's no way out. I've made a mistake."

"Maybe," says Simon, leaning back on the stool. "But no one will still be on about this in a few months. And it was worth it, wasn't it?"

Was it? I think back to all of my time with Jace before his mom told us about the mixed-at-birth scenario. My mind conjures up an image of him laughing, his head tilted back and his bright eyes peacefully closed. His golden curls fall back from his face and catch the light, and his chipped front tooth reminds me of how beautiful imperfections can be. And even though it's only a memory, it is like he is here, just for a moment.

"Yes," I say softly.

* * *

 **Jace**

I wake up in my bed, my head spinning. The other side of the bed is empty, but the sheets are rumpled and slept in. I run a hand through my hair and sit up, eyes searching the room. Clothes lay on the floor just outside the closed door to the bathroom. Aline's. The shower is running within. I groan and lean my head back against the headboard, trying to preserve the last few images of my dream.

In my sleep, Clary had come to me, smiling softly. I don't remember exactly what she was wearing, but I do remember it feeling soft and thin beneath my fingers as I held her. _Jace,_ was all she had said, and then she had kissed me in that soft and slow way she used to. I can't recall if I was able to run my hands through her hair, or hold her the way I want to. I grit my teeth as the door to the bathroom opens.

Steam pours into the room, and parts as Aline walks out. Her short and dark hair hangs in a wet curtain about her shoulders, and she wears only one of my shirts and a pair of sleep shorts. "Good morning," she says with a small smirk.

She settles back onto the bed and into the curve of my arm. When did I put my arm out like that? She looks over at me and her slanted eyes narrow. "You're looking at me strangely. What's wrong?"

 _Only that I was dreaming of Clary, and I am swamped in regret._ "Nothing," I lie. Something flickers in her eyes but she smiles anyways. Why can't I enjoy this? Aline is beautiful and intelligent and here in my arms. By the Angel, she's my _girlfriend_. Not Clary.

Anger suddenly tears through me, white hot and aggressive. I need to let it out some way, in some form. I lock eyes with Aline and then we are together, Aline's lips moving furiously against mine. I flip her so she is on her back and press her into the bed. Her hair is cold and damp between my fingers as I lean in to her lips again, deepening the kiss. And still, the image of Clary flickers in my mind. I let out an agitated groan and drag my lips down her chin and across her throat.

As soon as it came, the anger goes, and we both pull back at the same time. Aline sits up, her hair mussed and her lips slightly opened. Then her lips begin to quiver, and I don't realize that she is crying until tears begin to roll down her cheeks. "Aline?" I say softly, guilt roiling through my gut. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."

"It's not you," she says quietly, letting out a piteous sniff. "I just haven't told you the truth."

Her watering eyes lock with mine and then she dissolves into another round of sobs. I reach out for her hand and she takes it, squeezing it hard. All of the heat from our kiss has dissipated. "You can tell me."

Aline gulps and looks up at me. "I'm not into you," she says.

"What?" Whatever I would have thought she was going to say, that wasn't it.

"I mean," continues Aline, "I'm not into guys." The truth in her statement sinks in. She shakes her head and uses her free hand to wipe a tear off of her cheek. "I'm sorry I was leading you on. It's just...I told my manager and she said if I came out my career would be over. So I figured maybe if - if I dated a guy I would change. But I haven't. Are you...angry?"

My heart breaks for her. What an awful manager she must have. I can never imagine Alec saying something like that to me. "Aline, of course I'm not angry." I choose my next words carefully. "And if you're not ready to come out yet, we can stay together to the public eye."

"Are you sure?" Aline sounds so hopeful, I know I made the right choice.

"Of course," I tell her. She lets out a sob and throws her arms around me. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

I hold her the way I used to hold my little cousins as a kid. "Oh, Aline?"

She looks up at me, teary-eyed. "Yes?"

"I think your manager is wrong. I don't think your career would be over if you came out. In fact, I think people would learn to see you in a new light. I think they would love you more." I pause. "And if you want a new manager, I don't think Alec would be opposed."

Aline gives me a small smile. "I never took you for a kind boy, Jace Herondale."

"Well," I say, my mind full of Clary, "I guess I've changed."

She throws me a knowing look. "You pulled back too. There's something up, and you're going to tell me what it is."

And I figure that if she was able to bare her heart to me, I can do the same for her. "There's this girl," I begin. "Clary. The one I was dating before you..." I lay out the situation to Aline. She really is a good listener. After I finish, she nods.

"I find it in my own personal interests to help you win her back," says Aline.

My eyes widen. "You..you want to help me?"

She laughs softly. "Well, it's pretty clear that you're disgustingly in love with her. I don't want you to be miserable. And I owe you for this."

"You don't owe me anything," I tell her, and then we both smile.

* * *

 **Can I just say that I love Aline Penhallow? More often than not when I read books my race is not represented well, if at all. Aline broke down these stereotypes (as did Magnus) and they are both total ass-kicking amazing characters that I hold near and dear to my heart. After I saw so many stories that play off Aline as some random girl trying to steal Jace from Clary, I knew I needed to have her in mine as a strong and wonderful character that is not just there to create drama. I hope you all like my Aline as much as I do.**

 **Anyways...IT'S MY SIXTEENTH BIRTHDAY! For my birthday I got the tenth anniversary edition of City of Bones. The art inside is so beautiful that I can't even breathe! Do any of you have it?**

 **If you liked the chapter leave me a review! Until next time, my friends!**


	25. Chapter 25

**Jace**

Aline sits across from me at a table at Taki's. I decided to bring her here when she insisted we put a plan in motion to get Clary back. I'm not one to take help from other people, but I can't say I'm mad about this. She analyzes me with her slanted eyes and smiles pleasantly. "So, what is your trademark?"

"My what?"

She rolls her eyes. "Oh, please, don't act like you don't know. Before you started dating that girl, you were known for seducing a different woman every night. That's your strong point."

I frown at her. "I don't know about that."

Aline huffs and picks at the peeling corner of her laminated menu. "What kind of restaurant is this, anyways? What the hell are "luscious faerie plums'?"

My frown easily turns into a grin. "Well, to answer the first question, there's no way any paparazzi would find us here. And," I falter a little bit, "Clary brought me here."

"Oh," says Aline, eyes full of understanding. "Tell me more about her. You told me about your relationship, but not about her."

What do I say about Clary? My mind is full of memories of her. There's scarcely room for anything else. "She's an artist," I begin softly. "A really good one. She's illustrating a comic book series with her best friend. She loves to paint and draw. And she..." I trail off, words drying up on my tongue. "She's strong. Clary doesn't think that she is, but it's clear. And she...she..."

I'm interrupted by a small gasp behind my head. I turn to see Isabelle and Simon standing behind me. Her dark eyes are stretched wide, and Simon's eyebrows are raised behind his glasses. "By the Angel," breathes Isabelle. "You're in love with Clary."

"Isabelle," I say, and I'm surprised to find my voice thick. "I -"

She swats me on the shoulder with the back of her hand. "I swear to the Angel, Jace Herondale, if you don't tell me what your intentions are right now I will kick you all the way to Idris."

Aline clears her throat and moves aside in her seat. "Feel free to sit," she says, her expression slightly amused. I frown and make room next to myself. Isabelle slides in next to Aline and Simon sits next to me. Isabelle folds her manicured hands on the tabletop. I awkwardly introduce Aline to Isabelle and Simon.

"Now, I want to hear everything. The truth would be good."

I sigh. "She broke up with me after the..." I trail off. Do they know about that?

Simon clears his throat, looking uncomfortable, and says, "After the thing where she thought you were her brother?"

I feel my cheeks begin to warm. Jace Herondale _does not_ blush. What is going on? "Uhm...yes." I quickly relay the rest of the tale - how I tried dating Aline, how I still want Clary, and then Aline cuts in with her part of the story.

"So just to be clear," says Isabelle, her eyes glimmering, "You guys aren't dating, and she's helping you win Clary back." Aline nods. Isabelle claps her hands together. "Oh my God! Count us in. Simon, are you in?"

He sighs. "I don't like going behind Clary's back," he says. "But she's been...different since your relationship ended. I think she wants you back too."

"He's in," confirms Isabelle gleefully. "What's the plan so far?"

Aline smiles at them. I squirm in my seat. Would it be terribly rude if I left just about...I don't know...now? "I think Jace should seduce her."

"Woah," says Simon. "No way. No, no, no. Clary's not..." He sighs and looks at me. "You can't do that."

"Why not?" says Isabelle, shooting him a strange look. "She could use some fun, don't you think?"

Simon's cheeks turn red. "It's just that she's - she hasn't - oh, never mind. You just can't do it."

Aline gives him a strange look but says nothing else. "Relax. That's not the plan. He just needs to make her want him again."

"She's not going to come crawling back to you," says Simon with a small frown. "Clary's not like that."

I feel a spark of hope in my chest. If this does work, if I follow Simon's instruction along with Aline's, Clary could be mine again. "She won't have to," I tell him.

Isabelle lets out a long and dramatic sigh and folds her face into her hands. Her long nails are painted a deep red. "I can't believe this is happening," she moans into her hands. "I'm helping Jace Herondale win over my friend. I never thought my life would get this great."

"Can you do something for me?" I ask her, my pulse speedy beneath the skin at my wrist.

The fingers in front of Isabelle's eyes part, exposing her dark eyes. "Of course."

"Give me some time with Clary. Alone." I clear my throat and look away. "Oh, and, uh...don't tell Clary."

* * *

 **Clary**

Isabelle has been giving me odd looks all morning, and then glancing quickly away as if to avoid my noticing. I give her a glare from my perch on the couch. "Go on, tell me what's going on."

"Nothing's going on," she protests from her divan. "Right, Simon?"

Simon looks up from the newest copy of our comic, where he's penciling in small notes in the margins. "What? Dungeons and dragons is cancelled again?"

Isabelle sighs in exasperation. "No. Clary just asked if anything's going on. It's not, right?"

He adjusts his glasses and the tips of his ears go red. "No. Of course not. On the other hand, does that mean I have finally convinced you to come to Dungeons and Dragons today?"

"Simon," whines Isabelle. "That is such a nerd-tivity." I watch their interaction suspiciously. I know that they are up to something, but I just don't know what that might be. Whatever it is, I'm not sure I like it.

He grins over at her and sets the comic aside. "It's fun. Besides, Matt, Kirk, and Eric are great. They'll love you."

"Of course they will!" says Isabelle. "Everyone loves me."

Simon winks over at her, ignoring my sizzling stare into the side of his head. "Plus, my character is Lord Montgomery."

Her cheeks flame a bright red. "Fine, fine, I'm coming," she sighs.

"You're not going to tell me what you're planning, are you?" I ask them. Simon smiles cheerfully at me.

"Nope," says Izzy, and stands. "So, am I in need of any materials for this Dungeons and Dragons game?"

Simon rolls his eyes and walks over to her, taking her hands. "It's not a game, it's a campaign. And I don't think so..."

"Nonsense," retorts Isabelle. "I need a new outfit to meet your friends. Come along." She pulls on her jacket and tosses Simon his. He gives me a helpless look, but I can tell he isn't that angry about an impromptu shopping trip with Iz. I tell him to say hi to the boys for me and then he leaves.

The apartment is quiet. There's been a lot of quiet in my life as of late. A lot of time to think. I lean my head into my hand. I wish I could call Jon over, but he's out of town on a business trip. Anyways, I can't rely on him to take care of me forever. He's done more than his part in this lifetime.

Someone knocks on the door.

It's probably Izzy realizing she forgot something. I swing myself up off of the couch and open the door without looking through the peephole. Jace stands on the other side of the threshold, wearing only a pair of denim pants and a black t-shirt that accentuates his frame. I feel as if all of the breath has been knocked out of me. I know that I am staring, but I can't stop.

He throws me a smirk that makes my legs shiver and invites himself in, closing the door and locking it. "Jace," I say, and my voice sounds too breathy for my liking. "What are you doing here?"

"Shh," says Jace, still grinning. "Don't talk." He walks towards me like a golden lion stalking its prey. He looks so much better than my memory has given him credit for - his eyes are alight with a restless, flickering spark. I open my mouth to disobey his words but he sweeps one long, pianist's finger upwards and presses it to my slightly parted lips. "I've missed you, Clary," he says in a low and sultry voice, reaching out with his free hand to press against the base of my spine. As he draws me near to him, I am aware of a light ringing in my ears. The few inches between us seem to be charged with some sort of energy I can't place.

"You shouldn't -" I start half-heartedly, but Jace only smirks and presses the finger between my lips, effectively silencing me.

He lets out a low laugh that makes my heart beat faster. Jace seems to feel it in my pulse point and his smile widens. "You know," he says, "I can think of another way to keep you quiet." His eyes flick down to my mouth and stay there. He pulls his finger from my mouth and leans in. My breath is atrociously loud, so loud that it is embarrassing, but I can't help myself. His lip brushes mine so softly that it might not have even done so at all. I tilt my head up towards his almost on instinct, but he pulls away and releases me. I shiver and lean back against the wall. What is he doing?

"I won't kiss you until you're mine to kiss," says Jace, almost regretfully. He reaches up and runs his fingers gently along my mouth. "Which is such a shame, because I really, really want to kiss you right now."

I let out a short, labored breath. "Aline," I say.

He shoots me an unreadable look. "That's all for show," he replies. Then he leans in again, his hand running lightly along my sides. His breath tickles my ear when he speaks. "How would you want me to kiss you, Clary?" His voice is low and dangerous. "Slowly? Softly? Or maybe something different..." I shudder in his arms and his hands tighten around my waist. His teeth scrape against the edge of my ear and then he releases me and turns away.

Jace opens the door and pauses with one foot out into the hallway. "Think about it," he says, and then the door shuts and I'm alone again in this damn apartment.

I sink down the wall until I'm sitting on the floor and rake my hands through my hair. Whatever it was that just happened, it's just made me about the most frustrated I've ever been in my life.

* * *

 **What the hell was that?**

 **Hah. I don't know. But it happened so we're going to roll with it. This is the last chapter before my Christmas two-part special! I'll be posting one chapter on Christmas Eve and one on Christmas day. Also, a bit of sadder news (maybe). I live in the United States, and net neutrality has just ended. If it happens that I need to pay extra to use I'm not sure if I will be able to do so. If I suddenly stop updating, for a period longer than a month, this has probably happened and I sincerely apologize. For readers living in the United States - fight against the FCC's decision!**

 **Anyways, I hope you all liked this chapter. Maybe some of you? Hmm? A little bit of bacon?**

 **O-kay it is clearly time for me to sign off.**

 **xoxo**


	26. Chapter 26

Part I

 **Clary**

Magnus opens the door with a large grin and folds me into a hug. "Biscuit! Merry Christmas." He makes eye contact with Simon over my shoulder and adds, "Happy Hanukkah as well. Come in, come in!"

As he does every year, Magnus is hosting a Christmas party. It's not like he minds doing it, either. It's an excuse for him to decorate, buy things, and...oh, yes. Throw another party. He looks magnificent and Magnus-like - he has a sequined red blazer pulled on over the top of an ugly Christmas sweater covered in blinking lights. The loft is already full of people milling about. I feel a hand at my elbow and turn around. Jon looks down at me with a worried stare. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Yes," I say quietly.

Jon's eyes take on a darker look. "Jace is here. Damn it, Magnus." I can't help it. I turn around and catch sight of a head of tousled golden curls from across the room. They disappear into the crowd and I turn back to Jon. "Stay by me," he says.

Isabelle appears next to us, along with Simon. He grins defiantly at me and points at his bright blue Hanukkah sweater. I grin. I bought it for him a few years back. "Looking good, Lewis," I say.

"Thanks, Fairchild," he says back.

"Clary," says a voice behind me. I turn around to see Alec standing behind me. He's wearing a dark green sweater with white tree designs across the front, which seems about his style, with tinsel draped around his forehead, which was probably Magnus' doing. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

I feel Jon's hand tighten around my upper arm, but gently disengage myself from his grasp. "I'll be fine," I reassure him, and follow Alec to a more secluded corner of the party. I am aware of Jon's gaze on my back as I walk away. When we stop walking, I face Alec. "Look, if this is about Jace -"

"It's not," says Alec suddenly. He rubs the back of his neck like he's embarrassed. "Look - I wanted to thank you, okay? You pulled Jace out of his hole, which I couldn't do. And you introduced me to Magnus." He smiles a little, which makes me smile a little too. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to thank you enough for that."

"Well I'll thank you for making Magnus happy," I reply, rocking back and forth on my heels. "He deserves it."

Magnus sweeps in behind Alec and presses a light kiss to the top of his cheekbone. "What are you two hens gossiping about over here?"

I smile. "Nothing."

Alec grins at me as Magnus leads him back into the party, talking animatedly about the ice sculptures that Alec helped him design. I glance around the party, not conscious that I'm looking for a certain head of golden hair until I find it. Jace stands with a glass in his hand with his back to me, talking to a few people I don't know. Well, and Aline Penhallow. She stands at his side, her dark hair curled softly around her shoulders. Then she turns around and her eyes land on me. For a moment, she looks surprised that I'm looking at her. Then her face splits into a knowing smile and she turns to murmur something into Jace's ear. He turns his head to look at me and I quickly disappear back into the party before he can spot me.

He said that his relationship with Aline was all for show. If it is, why are they even together at all? As far as I'm concerned, Jace only needed a girlfriend to get the job with Magnus. He has one now, so what is he playing at? Ever since he came over, I've been confused and frustrated.

"Girl, you are so tense you're going to pop," says a voice behind me. I turn to see Isabelle, her face split into a scheming grin. She pushes a glass of something dark into my hand and grins at me. "Please have a drink."

I glare at her but raise the glass to my lips. I almost spit out what's inside. "Oh my God, Iz, what is that?"

She makes a thoughtful expression. "Well, the bartender told me it was a 'Panty-Dropping Christmas,' but I don't know if he was talking to me or about the drink."

"Ew, too much information," I groan at her.

Isabelle takes the drink from my hand and takes a sip. Her face screws up. "Wow. That's strong. But you need it." Her eyes flick behind me and she lets out a small gasp. "Give me that." She snatches the drink out of my fingers.

"Hey, I thought you said I needed tha - " I start, but then she shoves me and I stumble into something hard.

Something hard and _warm._ Somebody's chest. But not just anybody. Someone who smells like lavender and soap and...cigarettes? I look up and my mouth goes dry. Jace stares down at me, his lips slightly parted, his hair outlined with bright gold by the lights above his head. "Clary," he says, and his voice holds no indication of his emotions. I realize that his arms rest lightly around my waist - he caught me as I was stumbling.

Embarrassed, I begin to pull out of his arms, but then his hands tighten around me, and he starts to spin me in lazy circles to the music blaring through the party. The crowd around us is thick, and no one is paying us any attention. I'm not good at dancing, but Jace leads me, and it's clear that he is an amazing dancer; his feet move naturally and gracefully as he pulls me across the floor.

Then he stops moving and his fingers close around my chin, tilting my head up. Beyond his curls, I catch sight of a sprig of mistletoe dangling from the ceiling.

 _Curse you, Magnus._

* * *

 **Jace**

Can I just say how beautiful she looks?

As soon as I saw her, I knew tonight was going to be difficult. Of course, her brother was behind her, somehow managing to look protective and even threatening in a green sweater covered in small red deer and stockings. But I barely even saw him, or anyone else at the party. There was only Clary from the moment I laid eyes on her from across the room.

Her coppery hair is set in soft waves over her shoulders, like a copper river parting at her neck. Her dress is dark green, the same color as Jon's sweater, and it makes her emerald eyes all the more striking. I ache to stride across the room, fold her into my arms, and kiss her until the world falls away, but I will my feet to stay planted next to Aline.

I almost didn't come for this reason. But now I understand how much I'd regret it if I didn't.

"Having fun?" whispers Aline in my ear. I look over at her to see her wearing a small smirk. She must have seen where my gaze landed.

I clear my throat uncomfortably and switch my drink from one hand to the other. "Of course. It's one of Magnus Bane's legendary parties."

Aline glances over my shoulder to where I assume Clary now stands. "Who's that with her? She doesn't have a new boyfriend, does she? Because you have to know I will not endorse cheating -"

"That's Jon, her brother," I interrupt hurriedly before Aline can take that idea any further.

"Ah," she replies, her eyes flicking back to me. "Well, they look nothing alike."

I glance over at them. They really don't look much like siblings - Jon is so tall, with his shocking silvery blonde hair and sharp features, while Clary is small and soft and warm looking. I'm staring at her again, so I look away quickly. "They're very different," is all I say.

"Jace!" says a familiar voice. I turn to see Helen Blackthorn, who Aline introduced me to as her old friend, standing behind me. She's pretty - blonde, with pale blue eyes and a face full of sharp and unique features that give her an almost otherworldly appearance. "Mind if I steal Aline away from you for a bit?"

I grin at her. Aline blushes and tucks her hair behind her ears. "Be my guest," I tell Helen, and she turns her brilliant smile to Aline and leads her away into the party. I finish my drink in one long sip and set the empty glass on a nearby table. I see Alec and Magnus across the room, grinning at each other like idiots while they reattach some fallen garland to the wall. It's great to see Alec look so happy and carefree.

I hear a small gasp behind me and someone falls into me. On instinct, I turn and grab the person gently, lifting them slowly back to a standing position. My breath catches when I see two familiar green eyes staring up at me. "Clary," I breathe out.

She looks terrified. I don't want her to look this way. She begins to slip from my arms but I wrap them tighter around her small frame and begin to rock her, slowly at first and then faster, fitting to the pace of the music around us. _What am I doing?_ I don't care; I don't care. I let her float around me as I sway her to the music, and her eyes flutter shut, hiding her brilliant emerald orbs.

"Hey," says someone in my ear. I turn around, still spinning Clary, and see Aline behind me. She smirks and points above my head. I look up to see a sprig of mistletoe hanging innocently above. "Get 'em," says Aline, and melts back into the crowd.

 _This is a bad idea._ My feet stop moving. _A terrible idea._ Clary's eyes open, confused. _I should not do this._ My fingers find her chin, tilting her head upwards. _But I want to._ I lean down until our noses brush but don't go further than that.

Clary's breaths come faster, matching the pounding of my heart. People continue to dance around us, oblivious to our stopping. My fingers slide up her jaw and into her copper hair. She smells like strawberries and paint and black coffee. Her lips are begging to be kissed. So I kiss them.

It starts slow, just a simple brush of my lip to hers. Then her face tilts upwards to meet mine, a small gesture, but all the invitation I need. My lips cover hers again, and she sighs into the kiss, her hands finding their way to rest against my chest. There is something terribly sad about it this time - I feel my heart squeezing as I pull her closer to me. This could be the last time I ever get to kiss her. I try to pour all of my want, all of the desperation that's been harboring within me since our last meeting, into the pressure of my lips on hers.

Then I feel something wet and pull away. Tears stream down Clary's cheeks, and she looks frantic and cornered, like a deer in front of headlights. "Clary," I say again. "Wait." But she doesn't. She rips herself out of my grasp, pushing through the crowd away from me as fast as she can. I see Jon try to grab her arm, his face confused, but she pushes past him, flinging open the door of Magnus' loft and rushing out. Jon turns around and fixes me with a cold stare before hurrying after her.

I don't feel my feet begin to move, but then I'm out the door and running down the stairs, taking them two at a time.

I need to find Clary.

* * *

 **Ho ho ho. Merry Christmas Eve.**

 **So...this is part one! Part two will be posted tomorrow. This lil two part series is my gift to all of you. If you don't celebrate Christmas, happy holiday season and winter! It's my favorite season. Anyways, it looks like it's going to be a white Christmas where I live. I'm happy, I love school! Everything is so much prettier when it's snowy.**

 **Be back tomorrow for Part 2, our Christmas chapter!**

 **Love you all :) xoxo**


	27. Chapter 27

Part II

 **Clary**

The air is freezing against my red cheeks. I didn't bother to grab my coat before I left, which was a bad decision on my part. The streets are crowded with the late Brooklyn crowd - girls wearing tight sequined dresses and their boyfriends' jackets, old couples strolling hand in hand, a group of preteens wearing furry earmuffs and lip gloss. They all breeze past me as if I'm not there.

I don't know where to go from here. Certainly not back to the party, where Jace is. I shiver and lift my numb fingers to my lips. Why would he kiss me? Why had he even started to dance with me? And why had I let him do it?

I'm so frustrated that it physically hurts. My fingers skate from my lips down to my gut. The cold is pressing in on me like needy hands. The chilling breeze slides up my legs and beneath my dress, making me shiver. Still, I can't imagine going back to the party.

My legs begin to carry me down the sidewalk, through random alleys and past closed stores. Eventually, Prospect Park looms in front of me, dark and snowy and still. I walk along the paths, listening to the sound of the wind pushing the bare and brittle tree branches above. I bend down at the flowerbed that Jace took me to so long ago to show me the midnight flowers. Now the bushes are wilted with cold, and only one feeble flower still blooms.

"Enjoying the view?" says a rasping voice behind me.

I whip around, standing and staring at the speaker. He's an older man with drawn features and a heavy gray coat. With a start, I recognize him as the man who threatened me at Midtown Comics. "Get away from me," I say, my hand creeping instinctively for my phone. I come to the sickening realization that it's in my coat pocket, back at Magnus'.

The man grins, exposing crooked, cigarette stained teeth. "No one here with you," he notes. "And it isn't exactly...safe for young ladies like yourself to be out late all alone, is it?" He lets out a choked laugh, like what he's said is wildly funny. I feel sick.

"I'm going to call the police," I tell him.

"With what phone?" He steps closer to me, and I back up, off of the path and into the garden. "I don't see one, unless you're hiding one under that dress..."

I feel bile rising in my throat. "Don't even think about touching me." My voice shakes on the way out. All of a sudden, I hear loud footsteps coming in our direction. I turn to see a golden figure running towards us. _Jace._

The man growls angrily and when I turn back to him, he's gone. I shiver as Jace reaches me. "Clary," he says, sounding breathless. "Who was that?"

"Nobody," I tell him, turning away. I do not want to talk to Jace. His warm hands slide across my bare upper arms, turning me back to face him. His eyes are dark and unreadable.

"It's midnight," he tells me, angling his watch face so I can see the time. "Merry Christmas, Clary." He swallows, looking slightly queasy, and continues. "Can I just...say something?"

I can't form words, so I just nod.

Jace's brilliant eyes flick away from me, looking everywhere but at my face. "I'm not going to pretend I've never made mistakes. And I won't lie and act like like I wasn't awful. I had a new girl each night, because I could. I drank, and I smoked, and I didn't think about what I was doing. All I cared about was that I liked doing it." My chest tightens. Why is he reminding me of these things? He shakes his head and continues. "But then Alec had me date you. And at first, I didn't want to do it. And then I got to know you. And now I know that you're beautiful, and strong, and wonderful and kind and wise. And I don't want to do those old things anymore."

"I'm sick and tired of skating around the fact that I don't want to live without you. You are the only thing I've ever really wanted. And go ahead - if you don't want me, I give you permission to smash my heart to pieces. I would thank you to do it. But I just have to let you know that I love you, and I will love you until the day I die, and if there's a life after that, I'll love you then."

I feel a gasp escape my throat. Jace's eyes are wide and true, and they finally meet mine. "And I understand," he says slowly, "if this isn't what you want. Just please -" He cuts off as his voice breaks. "Let me have one last kiss."

And then he leans in and his warm lips press to mine. The kiss is slow and final and incredibly sad. Then, before I can process what's happening, his arms lift to pull me flush against his body. His lips begin to move faster, parting mine. His teeth graze my lower lip as his tongue explores my mouth. For a moment, he pulls back, gasping. "Stop me," he pleads, before leaning in again and giving me another rough kiss. "Please stop me."

"I won't," I tell him, and the stars above my head seem to wink at me as I lift my eyes to see them. This is where he kissed me for the first time. And I think I knew, even then, that this would be the end for me. There will never be another. I let my eyes drift back down to meet his and give him a shy smile. "I love you too."

* * *

 **Jace**

I don't know if anything will ever feel the way those four words do. _She loves me. Clary loves me._ Giddiness rises up within me, making me feel like a teenage boy in love for the first time.

And as far as I'm concerned, this _is_ the first time.

My face splits into a grin and I lift Clary off of her toes, spinning her around me. She presses her cheek to my shoulder and laughs a little. When I set her down again, her eyes are wide and reflect the few stars able to be seen in the city's sky. "Where do we go from here?" she asks, her voice soft and sensible, my favorite sound in the world.

"I can think of a few things," I tell her, relishing the way her cheeks redden. I can't take it anymore. I lean in again, and press my lips to hers. She shivers in my grasp and I pull back. "Oh, by the Angel, Clary. You must be freezing."

"Not anymore," she says. Her smile seems to make everything brighter. "I've never felt so warm in my life." And then she tilts her head up to kiss me again, and I pull her closer to me, no longer caring about setting boundaries or showing too much affection. Clary will not mind. I am safe with her. She sighs softly against my mouth, an achingly sweet sound. _I'm never going to let her go again._

Clary pulls her lips back and smiles shyly up at me. "Okay. I am a little chilly. Why don't we go somewhere else?"

"Where would you suggest? My place or yours?" I reply.

Her grin becomes coy. "Well, Simon and Izzy will be home soon. They might already be there."

"So...?" My heart is pounding crazily against my rib cage.

"Your place."

I grab her hand, trying to warm it in my own. "Let's get going, then." We reach the street, and I try in vain to flag down a cab.

"We can take the subway," suggests Clary.

For old time's sake, I give her a disapproving look. "That's not really safe, is it?"

She leans up so her breath tickles my ear when she speaks. "I'll be safe if you're there with me."

We head to the nearest station and make our way into the fairly deserted tunnel. When the next train comes, we climb on. There are plenty of empty seats, but when I sit, I pull Clary onto my lap. She gives me a look, so I pull her in and kiss her. I will never tire of kissing Clary, I don't think. She makes all of the lips that came before her seem dull, fading from my memory with each press of hers on mine. "Get a room," sighs one of the other people in our car. Clary pulls back from me, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright.

"Oops," she whispers.

"Never apologize," I say back, and she leans forwards to lean her head against my shoulder blade. She presses a light kiss to the skin at the base of my neck, and I let my hands run along her copper curls. We sit like that until we reach the stop by my building.

I can barely keep my pace slow as we enter my building. The air inside is warm, which is a relief. Clary spins and presses her lips to mine. I hold her to me as we stumble into the elevator. I slam my palm into the correct button for my floor and her fingers begin to travel along the hem of my sweater. I grin into the kiss and help her pull it off over my head. Beneath it, I just wear a simple white button up shirt. Her fingers lift and begin to twist into the curls at the base of my neck. Is she trying to drive me crazy? No matter. I'm not complaining. But two can play this game.

I let my hands run down to rest at the place where her dress meets her leg, tracing light patterns against the skin there. She gasps into my mouth and I smile, my hand rising slowly to push the fabric up her leg. I don't get very far - the elevator doors swing open and we break apart for a moment. Then she lets out a light giggle and reaches up, wrapping her arms around my neck. I swing my arms down and lift her up. She lets out a surprised squeak and I carry her unceremoniously down the hall towards my suite. She leaves light kisses along my neck as we walk, making it hard to focus on the task at hand. I fumble with the key, barely able to fit it into the slot.

Clary swings down and kisses me. I part her lips with my own and bite at her bottom lip, enjoying the soft sigh that escapes her lips. Her fingers fumble with the buttons of my shirt, until it hangs open. She presses her cold hands against my chest, pushing the shirt down to rest at my elbows.

Then light floods through the suite. We jump apart, and I hear a whistle and the sound of two hands clapping. I turn to see a tall, dark haired man leaning against the counter in my kitchen. I feel a spark of anger at the interruption before I grasp who it is. Embarrassment turns my cheeks pink. "You know, dear cousin, I always did hear rumors of your exploits, but I suppose I never have seen it with my own two eyes," says the man in a lilting British accent.

Clary's cheeks are as red as her hair. She looks mortified. I make a sour face at the man. Out of all the times he could show up, it had to be _now?_ "Clary is _not_ an exploit. But don't be jealous. We always knew I was the more attractive cousin, Will."

* * *

 **MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYBODY!**

 **This chapter...happened. Well, it's there and I just posted it so I hope you all liked it! Also, I really couldn't help but to have an inconveniently placed Will in there, because why not? That's another lil present for you guys - WILL HERONDALE!**

 **I hope you enjoyed! See you soon...hint, the next chapters may involve interviews and fireworks ;)**

 **Much love! xoxo**


	28. Chapter 28

**Clary**

The dark haired man shoots me a grin. He looks a bit like Jace - they have the same high cheekbones and restless eyes. However, his hair is a deep black and his eyes are a stunning dark blue. Jace slides his hand around my waist, drawing me in to his side. "Hello," says the man, his eyes following Jace's movements. "Who might you be, not-an-exploit?"

If possible, I feel my cheeks redden further. "My name is Clary," I mumble.

Jace casts a furious glance at him. "Clary, this is my cousin William."

"His favorite cousin," he corrects.

"My only cousin," retorts Jace.

"Call me Will." He steps forwards and bends down on one knee, lifting my hand to his mouth. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, _Clary_. I've always wanted to meet the woman that could settle Jonathan down."

He has an accent that is distinctly British. "Oh, well..." I say, unsure of what to do.

Jace frowns down at him and nudges him in the shin. Will stands and slides his hands into his pockets. "Don't call me Jonathan," says Jace. "What are you doing here?"

"I was hoping for more of an I-missed-you-so-much-and-I'm-so-happy-you're-here homecoming, but this works too," says Will. "To answer that question, I came to see my little cousin for the holidays. But it seems to me that you're...preoccupied."

I am mortified. I am saved from the conversation by a rough pounding on the door. "I'll get it," says Will, giving me one last amused look before heading towards the door. He opens it to reveal a flustered Alec on the other side of the threshold.

"Jace," he hisses. "By the Angel, I will kill you." Alec strides into the apartment, brandishing his phone. He thrusts it at Jace, before his eyes land on me. "I don't believe it," is all he says, and leans against the wall behind him, eyes closed tightly.

"What is it?" I ask Jace.

His face tightens a bit. " _Idris_ online, of course."

"Do you want water, or anything?" Will asks Alec, his eyebrows lifted. Alec shakes his head, as if having Will standing in the apartment is completely normal.

"Someone captured some pictures of us in Prospect Park," says Jace. "So now I'm Hollywood's biggest cheating scumbag."

I sigh and look up at him. "So, another interview."

His eyes flicker. "Well, if you're comfortable with it."

"Anything," I tell him, and he leans down to press a kiss to my lips.

"Stop it," says Alec. "Why can't you heterosexuals hold yourselves together for five seconds? Jace, please put a shirt on. We have things to do." He looks over at me. "We have to go talk with Aline. Are you fine with staying here?"

"I'll stay with her," volunteers Will.

Jace gives him a distrustful look. "It'll be fine, Jace," I tell him, reaching over to do up the buttons on his shirt.

"Okay," he finally agrees, and gives me another kiss before grabbing a black jacket hanging on the door, swinging it on before turning to Alec. They head out the door and then I am alone in Jace's suite with Will.

He sends me an appraising look. "I can't say I've ever seen him like this before," he says casually, shrugging off his coat and tossing it onto Jace's kitchen counter. He looks around the spotless appliances and continues. "Do you live here?"

"No," I reply.

Will cocks an eyebrow. "Ah. I see he has not outgrown his over-cleanliness. Why don't we do him a favor and dirty the place up a titch?"

I frown. "What?"

He grins easily and plucks a bottle of liquor off of one of Jace's shelves. "Do you drink?"

"Not really."

Will nods slowly, placing the bottle back where it came from and selecting a bottle of red wine instead. "That's probably good," he says, popping the cork before I can tell him not to. He grabs two wineglasses and fills both.

I take the glass when he hands it to me. "Why's that?"

"Jace had a bit of a drinking problem in and after high school," he says, sipping some wine from his glass. He nods in approval and tops off his glass. My heart contracts. How did I not know about that? "He didn't tell you, did he," sighs Will.

"Does he still have it?" I ask, setting down my glass. I feel the urge to toss out all of Jace's alcohol, but perhaps he'd be angry if I did. An image pops into my mind of my dad downing bottle after bottle, growing surlier with each one. When we were too young to understand it, Jon and I would call his drunk anger "splotchy moods."

Will frowns into his wineglass. "I don't think so." He sets down his glass too. "Last time I was here, about two years ago, he wasn't drinking anymore."

Worry begins to blossom in my gut. I never liked it when Jon would drink because of the memory of an angry, drunken fist against my jaw. If Jace needs help, it is my job to help him. "Oh," is all I can think to say.

"I didn't come just to see him," says Will. When I look back over at him, there's a shadow across his face. "I have a wedding to attend in the city so I thought I'd stop in and say hello."

"Who's getting married?" I ask.

When Will looks at me, his eyes are full of anguish so strong I can almost feel it. "My best friend and..." He swallows before continuing. "Erm...Tessa. I'm the best man, but I don't know how I'll manage it."

"You're in love with her," I say.

"Horribly so." He leans against the counter and slides a palm over his face. "If you could convince Jace to come to the wedding that could make it easier," he tells me. "And you could join him, of course."

I imagine a situation where Isabelle would be marrying Jace and shiver. "Of course we'll come."

* * *

 **Jace**

Clary looks so small settled into the big armchair between Aline and the _Idris_ host, Imogen. "Now, I can't wait to unravel this whole debacle!" Imogen's gray eyes sweep across the group. Aline looks nervous. I can imagine why. She said last night that it was time for her to come out, but I'm still nervous that she feels pushed to do so. Imogen's gaze lands on me. "Now, Jace. I'm sure we all have a lot of questions. We all saw you were dating our friend Clary here, but then you were dating Aline. But look, America!" She gestures to the screen behind her, where pictures are scrolling - the original picture of Clary and I kissing in the alleyway, a picture of Aline and I walking down the sidewalk, and a blurred shot from Christmas in Prospect Park. "Seems like he can't get enough women right now. Care to share?"

I frown. "Well, despite all of this so-called evidence, I was never cheating on either of them."

Imogen's eyebrows lift comically. "Do you hear that? He wasn't cheating! Now, Clary, what do you think of all of this, being the other woman?"

I feel the intense urge to slap Imogen.

"I'm not the other woman," says Clary. "Jace and I have had a...complicated relationship, but neither of us has ever cheated on the other. In fact, I must say a large portion of our problems came from the prying media." Pride surges through me at her words.

"Al-righty!" Imogen whistles. "So, Jace. If this is true, what is going on between you and Clary?"

My hands ball at my sides. "She..." I trail off, looking up to meet Clary's eyes. They're wide and green, watching me. She doesn't know what I'm going to say. To be honest, I don't either. _What is going on between me and Clary?_ "I love her," I say simply. A small smile pulls up the edge of Clary's lips that I feel myself returning.

"Did you hear that?" Imogen yells. "It is serious between Clary and Jace! But if this is the case, what's the whole deal with Aline?"

"If I may interject," says Aline, her voice steely. Imogen raises an eyebrow at the camera, and Aline continues. "Jace and I never had a romantic relationship."

"Would you say it was purely sexual?" probes Imogen before Aline can go on. Clary sinks further into her chair. I feel an uncomfortable prickle up my back.

Aline's face sours. "No. Not sexual, either." She makes eye contact with me and nods slightly. "You see, I have something that I need to say. But I thought I couldn't say it." She lifts a shaking hand to smooth down her hair. Then she smiles. "Jace was doing me a favor. He was pretending to be in a relationship with me so I could prepare myself for this..."

As she trails off, her face grows paler. She looks up at me, her eyes frantic. Clary reaches out a hand to Aline, which she clutches gratefully. "I'm a lesbian," says Aline, "and I hope that everyone listening will find it in their hearts to accept me that way."

Imogen claps a hand over her mouth. "That's something!" She removes her hand. "Do you think that this will compromise your role in your upcoming film _City of Bones?_ "

"No!" cries Clary. Everyone looks at her in surprise. "Magnus would never judge someone based on their sexuality," she says.

"Right," coos Imogen. "He is openly gay, is he not?"

Clary frowns. "He's bisexual."

"Same thing," says Imogen, shooting a look at the camera. Anger surges up in me and I stand, offering my hand to Clary.

"Come on," I tell her, pulling her to her feet. Aline stands next, looking slightly confused. "We're not going to sit here and talk to a host that doesn't bother to learn the differences between sexualities." Aline grins at me, and Clary's hand slides into mine. Ignoring Imogen's panicked yells to turn off the camera, we walk off of the set.

No one bothers in trying to stop us.

* * *

When we open the door to my suite, Will, Magnus, Alec, Isabelle, Simon, and Jon are waiting inside. "Oh, Biscuit," says Magnus, sweeping forwards to wrap Clary in a tight hug. And even though Magnus has always seemed to know exactly what to say, when he pulls back it seems he is at a loss for words.

Aline stands awkwardly behind us. "Aline," says Alec, glancing at Magnus before continuing. "If you need a new manager -"

"Yes," says Aline gratefully. They smile, and then everyone starts talking.

"I'm never watching Idris again!" moans Isabelle, at the same time as Simon says, "That was impressive."

Will claps me on the shoulder. "Very impressive," he says in my ear. Jon is saying something to Clary in low tones, and then she wraps her arms around him. He lifts his head and gives me a strange look before turning back to his sister.

"I brought wine!" says Magnus.

"I brought Taki's takeout!" chimes in Isabelle.

As everyone descends on the food, Clary looks up at me. "It's all okay," she says, like she can't believe it.

"It is," I agree, and press a light kiss to her smiling lips.

* * *

 **This chapter was kind of weird but I'm not mad at it.**

 **Anyways! Limelight is drawing close-ish to the conclusion. I mean, there are still several things that haven't happened but still will (I promise) but I am also planning out my next story... *rubs hands together and laughs evilly* I am thinking of doing a story set in a hotel next that centers around a Bachelor-type show, starring our favorite Clary and Jace of course! We shall see.**

 **It was also brought to my attention that some of you amazing readers have tumblr accounts! If y'all do, I'm "roszy" on tumblr and if you send me a message saying you're from Limelight I'll follow you back :)**

 **Much love to all of you!**

 **xoxo**


	29. Chapter 29

**Clary**

In all the years I've lived in New York, I've never come out to Times Square for the New Years ball drop. Jon and I used to watch it at Magnus' on the television. I always felt bad when Jon would turn down New Years parties to celebrate with me. When I would voice my concerns, he would give me a funny look and tell me there was no one else he'd rather start the new year with.

"You are not wearing that," groans Izzy, snapping me out of my reverie. I look down at myself - jeans, a green sweater, my ankle boots.

"What's wrong with it?" I ask, looking at myself in the mirror.

Isabelle purses her lips and walks over to me. She, like always, looks runway ready. Her hair is curled impressively and arranged in a royal-looking way around her face. She's wearing a tight red dress covered with sequins and tall black boots with gold lining. "You look like you do every day," she complains, picking up a lock of my hair and twirling it around her finger. "You're about to be on television - _we're_ about to be on television. You can't wear that."

As if I needed reminding. Jace and Aline are co-hosting a New Years concert to advertise for their new movie, and they insisted we come along, as they have a private party and special viewing platform to watch the ball drop afterwards. Izzy accepted before I could ask questions. "Not necessarily," I tell her, picking at the hem of my sweater.

"Clary Fairchild," scolds Izzy. "I absolutely cannot let you go to an exclusive New Years Party in Times Square wearing jeans." She continues to talk as she retreats into her closet, tossing things about. "You need to make Jace's jaw drop."

"Why?" I argue weakly, knowing she won't change her mind.

"Here." She emerges with her arms bursting with different items. She begins to hold things up to me, muttering under her breath. "Ah-ha!" Izzy tosses the garments to her bed except for one tiny golden thing.

I cross my arms. "That looks like a shirt, Iz."

"It is a shirt," she replies. "Well, it's a shirt on me. It's a dress on you. Put it on."

Grumbling, I shuck off my jeans and sweater and pull the shirt-dress on over my head. It's tight and stretchy, made of material that's light gold and glows like firelight. The sleeves leave my shoulders bare and rest lightly on my upper arms. The only problem with it is that it's so short. "I can't wear this," I tell her, looking down at my pale and freckly legs. "I'm practically naked."

"You're wearing it," says Isabelle. "You look incredible. Now put these on." She hands me a set of shoes that are a matching shade of gold, simple looking sandals with a shorter heel.

"We're not the same shoe size," I remind her.

Izzy grins. "I know. I bought these for you." She bends down and puts one of the shoes on before I can object. "There. See? You look great!"

I finally meet my eyes in the mirror. I look different. Contrasting to the gold, my hair looks copper instead of carrot. My eyes look greener than ever. Even my freckles seem to take on a coppery look, rather than orange-y cocoa. "Fine," I tell my reflection. "But only because it's New Years Eve."

* * *

The streets are absolutely packed. People bundled in jackets and tinsel crowd every corner and sidewalk, yelling and laughing and waving liquor bottles in the air. Policemen patrol closely. The sky is already dark and taking on the glow of Manhattan. Simon, Izzy, Jon and I walk with a police escort to the party, which seems a bit extravagant to me, but Jace insisted. The crowd hollers at us as we pass. One man leans forwards and kisses Isabelle's cheek.

Jon nudges my side. "Happy new year, little sis," he murmurs in my ear. I look up at him with a small smile and he wraps his arm around my waist. We reach the party and my jaw drops. Set on a platform, it's surrounded by walls of glass. People below scream up to the party, but those inside don't look down. Television cameras surround the party, as well as photographers. I catch a glimpse of gold hair in the crowd inside.

We're led up to the party and greeted by Magnus. He kisses me on the cheek before reaching to pull Jon into a hug. Alec stands beside him, grinning ear to ear and looking more carefree than I've ever seen him. I see Will, Jace's cousin, talking to a tall man with slanted eyes and silvery hair as well as a woman wearing a vintage style gown with her hair arranged in corkscrew curls.

Aline Penhallow catches my eye over the shoulder of a girl with light blonde hair. She smiles before the girl pulls her to a small throng of dancing people, and she's gone.

I crane my neck, searching for a head of blonde curls, but find none. A man in a suit-vest and glittery tie offers me a glass of champagne, which I refuse. I stand alone uncertainly. The party is full of people I swear I've seen on the big screen, as well as singers that performed at the concert Jace was hosting. But no Jace.

Where is he? It has never been more striking how different we are than when I am standing here among these people. Why would he choose me, of all people? I'm still not sure. I just know that I am incredibly lucky.

I feel a strong pair of arms wrap around my waist.

* * *

 **Jace**

My mouth dries up when I catch sight of a head of bright red curls. But that can't be Clary - she's never shown that much skin. But of course, it is her. I am immediately grateful that Clary is mine, because if she wasn't, I'm not sure if I would be able to control myself.

I still might not be able to.

I slide up behind her and pull her to me, resting my chin in the crook of her neck. Her gasp turns into a laugh. "Wha - Jace!" She grins up at me and spins so she can face me.

"You look incredible," I tell her, my eyes skimming her outfit. Her dress seems to emanate a soft golden glow, illuminating her face. I can't help it - I lean in and press my lips against hers. Her arms lift and wrap around my neck, pulling me closer. I move so her body is pressed to mine and part her lips with my own, deepening the kiss. She angles her head to gain better access to my mouth, her fingers tracing small patterns against the back of my neck.

"Clary," groans a voice. We break apart and I see Jon standing near us with Magnus and Alec. He frowns and makes a gagging motion. "Why do I have to witness these terrible things?"

Her cheeks pink and she smiles at Jon. "Sorry, big brother." They exchange a knowing grin.

"Jace!" calls a voice. I turn to see Will starting over, flanked by two other people. He grins down at Clary before motioning behind him. "This is Jem and Tessa. You know, it's their wedding you're going to?"

I make a sour face at him. "You think I'm as daft as you, I'm not a bad wedding guest!" I fire back. Clary's face has fallen to something like pity or concern as she looks at Will, but he seems fine to me.

"It's nice to meet you," says the woman who must be Tessa. She's pretty - tall with curled light brown hair and gray eyes. A golden necklace in the shape of an angel constructed of clockwork hangs at her collarbone.

"Will talks of you a lot." Jem wraps an arm around Tessa's waist. His slanted eyes narrow as he grins. "All good things, of course."

I snort. "That's surprising, coming from him."

Will elbows me in the side and we all laugh. I reach down to find Clary's hand. "This is my girlfriend, Clary." _Girlfriend._ I want to savor the shape of the word on my tongue. _My girlfriend._

She exchanges pleasantries with Jem and Tessa, and then they head off, Will trailing behind them. I hold Clary close to my side. One of the wait staff passes us. "Care for champagne?"

"Sure," I tell him, taking one glass for me and one for Clary. I pass it to her and she bites her lip, looking nervous. "I didn't poison it," I joke.

"I know," says Clary, looking into her glass. "It's just...oh well. I guess it's alright. It's New Years Eve."

I frown down at her and tuck a stray bit of hair behind her ear. "What's wrong?"

She looks up at me and feigns a smile. "Nothing. Okay? It's almost midnight."

I will be sure to ask her about this later. But I don't want to spend the last minutes of the year talking about unpleasant things. I lean down, wrapping her in my arms, and place my lips close to her ear. Below us, the crowd hollers and waves, and confetti scatters through the sky. Music blares from all around. "What was your favorite part of the year?" I ask her.

Clary spins and taps a sort of rhythm against my collarbone. "Hmm," she says, her emerald eyes flicking upwards to meet mine. "I published my comic book. And then I met you."

I smile into her hair, inhaling the familiar sweet scent of her strawberry shampoo. "Sounds like a pretty good year," I murmur against her cheek. She grins and pulls back.

"And you, Mr. Herondale?"

I set down my glass and she follows my example. I'd much rather not have one anyways - now I can wrap my arms around her. "Easy," I tell her. "Every year of my life seems dull compared to the one that brought me you. And it just keeps getting better."

The clock strikes midnight. I see the ball drop, and the crowd surges below it. Across the room, Magnus and Alec are locked in a kiss, as well as Simon and Isabelle and Clary's brother with a girl I don't know. I wrap my fingers around Clary's chin and press my lips firmly to hers, letting her melt into my arms.

There's no other way I'd rather start a new year.

* * *

 **Happy new year, guys!**

 **Okay. I've been wanting to say this for a really long time. I am so incredibly thankful for all of you that read my stories. It still blows my mind that someone would set aside time out of their days and their lives to read something that I wrote. It really does mean the world to me. Every time I post a new chapter, I feel so much happier and lighter. I love reading your reviews. They always make me smile and sometimes they make me cry. When I'm feeling sad sometimes I'll read them over and they cheer me up. I literally cannot thank you all enough for reading my little story, that just a few months ago, was only a fleeting idea in my brain.**

 **You guys are my world. I hope you all have an incredible 2018 because you deserve it.**

 **I love you all to Idris and back :)**


	30. Chapter 30

**Clary**

I wake up feeling far warmer than usual. When my eyes flick open, an unfamiliar room greets my gaze. Plain white walls, a window showing a beautiful view of the Manhattan skyline. A pair of arms tighten around my waist and I turn my head. Jace lies in bed next to me, his face made youthful by sleep. His blonde curls spread across the pillow in a golden halo and his lips are parted quite adorably.

A smile spreads across my face and I settle back into the crook of his arm. Jace shifts in his sleep, one of his legs tangling in mine, and mumbles something softly.

He really does look younger when he is asleep. All of the lines have been cleared from his face, and his tan skin seems to glow with a good night's sleep. One of his hands curls around my waist and the other fits comfortably beneath my shoulders, keeping me in the curve of his body.

My phone buzzes beneath my pillow and I quickly pull it out to silence it before it wakes up Jace. It's Jon calling. "Hello?" I murmur into the phone even though I know who's on the other line.

"Clary, where are you?" He sounds almost hurt.

My cheeks redden even though he can't see where I am through the phone. "I'm at...I'm at Jace's."

There's silence on the other end of the phone. Then Jon speaks again. "You _slept_ there?" His voice holds a thousand other meanings.

"Not like _that,_ " I say hotly into the phone. "But...yes."

"Hm," says Jon into the phone. I can imagine him leaning against the counter, his long body curled to fit, the way he does when he takes a call. I can also imagine his disapproving look. "Just be home soon, okay?"

"I will be," I tell Jon.

He pauses before he says, "I love you Clary."

"Love you too," I reply, and then I hang up the phone.

"Who was that?" says a sleepy voice behind me. I turn to see Jace blinking the sleep from his eyes. His face splits into an easy grin. "Who is this that you love? Do I need to go kick someone's ass?"

I groan at him and sink back down into the sheets. Jace's bed is absurdly comfortable. "It was just Jon. He didn't know where I was."

Jace frowns. "I see. The protective big brother instincts are kicking in. I guess he's stubbornly against me."

"Why would you think that?"

Jace sighs, twirling a piece of my hair around one of his fingers. "Well, for starters, I'm dating his baby sister."

"I'm not his _baby_ anything!" I protest.

He grins and leans forwards, pressing a kiss to the skin right next to my lip. "He always gives me looks like I kill puppies for fun and burn down orphanages."

I lean my forehead into his collarbone. "He's just...a little sensitive about people getting close to me. He didn't like Simon in the beginning either."

"Wait." Jace leans back, the beginning of a laugh etched on his face. "Didn't you meet Simon when you were, I don't know, seven?"

"Yes," I say, my own grin making its way onto my face. "Simon was scared to come over for the longest time because Jon was always so hostile towards him."

Jace considers my words. "What changed?"

What did change? I can remember Simon coming over to see me, right before my family life spiraled out of control. "Well...I guess Jon decided that Simon had my best interests at heart. He could see that he cared." As the words leave my mouth, I realize they might not be the best ones to use. I hope Jace doesn't think I'm insinuating that he doesn't care.

His golden face remains the same. "I don't want him to hate me," he says.

"Why don't we all go out today, then? The three of us?" I look up into his lion's eyes.

"Alright," he pulls me in close to his chest, my chin coming to rest at his shoulder. "I'd rather not share you today, but if I must..." Jace's fingers slide across my jaw, tilting my face to meet his. He presses light kisses everywhere on my face that isn't my lips - to the tops of each cheekbone, to the tip of my nose, to the curve of my jaw. I can't take it anymore; I push my lips against his.

Jace seems to suddenly wake up, his lips moving furiously against mine. I reach up to rest my hands on his back, my fingertips feeling the muscles in his back move as he flips us so I stay curled in the blankets beneath him. I sigh against his mouth and he pulls back slightly, his mouth falling next to my ear. "I could get used to waking up to this in the morning," he tells me.

"Me too," I reply, staring up at him. He is beautiful in a strange, otherworldly sort of way. Something about his features makes him compelling and ethereal, a new kind of attraction.

He traces my features with his fingers, his elbows keeping his weight off of me. "Then why don't we?" he asks softly, almost like he's talking to himself.

"What?" I reply, a bit shocked. We've only just started dating. Is he asking me to move in with him?

Jace shakes his head and smiles down at me. "Forget I said anything," he says, rolling off of me. I feel instantly chilly without his body against mine. "As much as I hate to cut this short, I don't want Jon to hate me more by bringing his little sister late. Or, you know, in my clothes."

I look down. My golden dress from last night has been replaced by a pair of Jace's sweatpants, tied tightly at my waist to keep them up, and an overlarge black t-shirt that smells overwhelmingly of Jace. I remember changing into these things just before falling into bed with him, both of us too tired to do much else. "Oh. Right. I should get back to my place."

"I'll take you," Jace says, grinning as he shucks his sleep shirt off over his head. My cheeks heat instantly. Jace smirks as he looks down at me. "I'll just need to change first."

* * *

 **Jace**

I sit on the ratty couch in Clary's apartment and wait for her to get changed. Isabelle sits there too, a steaming mug of coffee in her hands. I've never seen her without makeup before, or without heels strapped to her feet. She looks younger this way - her dark eyes are larger and she is smaller curled inside of a silky red robe and soft socks. She gives me a knowing look. "So?" she asks innocently. "Clary stayed over at your place, huh."

"Yes," I reply, watching her closely. With Isabelle Lightwood, there is always an ulterior motive.

Isabelle sets her coffee aside to secure her chin atop her hands. "You have it bad, don't you, Jace Herondale?" While I struggle to think of a good reply, she continues. "You have to be gentle with Clary. She's a strong girl, but there's a lot she doesn't know."

I can think of many things Isabelle knows that Clary wouldn't. My cheeks pink. "I'll be good to her," I promise, and Clary pops out of her room, dressed comfortably. I love the way she doesn't seem to need to prove herself through her wardrobe. Anyways, she looks so good in everything that I can never find fault in what she wears. I feel a smile on my lips as she walks towards me.

"What's going on in here?" Clary asks, coming up behind me to lean over the back of the couch.

Isabelle winks at me. "Oh, nothing. I'm just reveling at the fact that there's a movie star sitting on my couch and he's about to go take my best friend on a date." She sighs. "I should write a book about this. It would be a bestseller."

Clary punches her friend in the shoulder, but she's grinning. "Oh hush, Iz. I'll be back soon, okay?"

"Take _as long as you like,_ " says Isabelle, shooting me a wink. I quickly grab Clary's hand to leave before Isabelle can make the situation more uncomfortable. The apartment door shuts softly behind us and we start walking. Clary stops at the top of the staircase and turns to face me, pushing her curls from her face.

"Give Jon some time. I'm sure he'll warm up to you."

I smile down at her. "Hopefully. Because I'm around to stay." She turns her head away, but not before I catch her quick grin and reddened cheeks.

* * *

Jon already sits in a booth at Taki's when we walk in. A lopsided smile spreads across his lips as he sees Clary and he stands, hugging his little sister while all affection drains from his eyes to look at me. "Hi," I say, just to be polite. Jon nods at me over Clary's head and we all slide into the booth.

A waitress comes and we all order drinks. I knot my hand with Clary's between us on the vinyl seats, and judging by the way Jon's eyes narrow, he didn't miss it. "So," says Clary's brother, "what exactly are your intentions with my sister?"

"Jon," Clary groans. "This is lunch, not an interrogation."

He gives her a wry grin. "Sorry, little sis." I'm saved from the interaction by the waitress, returning to the table and sliding us our drinks. She pulls a notepad from one of the pockets on her apron and pulls a pen from behind her ear. We order and she saunters away, sucking the pen between her lips as she walks.

"Play nice," scolds Clary. "I'm going to the bathroom." Before I can protest, or even shoot her a _please don't_ glance, her hand slips from mine and she spins away.

Immediately, Jon's eyes flick to mine, cold as ice and just as forgiving. "Spill it, Herondale."

A bit of anger sparks in my stomach. "I don't know what I'm supposed to spill."

"Don't beat around the bush," snaps Jon. "I know that she slept at your place last night. And listen. I'm sure you're great with your fans, or on screen, but if you're going to be dating my sister there are rules."

I grit my teeth. "You don't get to give us rules," I retort. "Clary's an adult. She can make her own choices."

"She's my sister," he says in an eerily calm voice. "I will do anything to protect her. And I've already seen you shitfaced drunk -"

"And you've already discounted me as toxic to her." My blood is boiling. Who is he to tell Clary what she can and can't do?

Jon's gaze turns even colder. "I haven't seen any evidence to prove otherwise. Whose arms do you think she jumped into when she came home crying for things that _you_ did?"

I open my mouth to answer, my pulse pounding in my fingertips, but Clary comes back, sliding a hand onto my shoulder. The anger on Jon's face falls away like water in the shower. He smiles easily at his sister. "What did you two talk about?" she asks, sliding back into the booth beside me.

"Nothing much," answers Jon, his green eyes daring me to say any different.

* * *

 **Jon is friggin' oVeRpRoTeCtIvE. But of course he is, right?**

 **It has been an incredibly long time since I updated. I was on my winter break and was taking a break from writing as well (on this story). I am in the process of writing a novel that I hope I can one day get published. Exciting! But I'm back to Limelight as well, so...enjoy :)**

 **Review if ya feel like it. Hope you guys are havin a good 2018 so far!**


	31. Chapter 31

**Jace**

I pull on my usual black sweatshirt and emerge from my bedroom to see Clary looking through my kitchen cabinets. "What are you doing?" I ask, coming up behind her. She jumps.

"Oh. Um...just looking, that's all." Clary shuts the cabinet and looks up at me.

I lift an eyebrow at her and tuck her curls behind her ears. "Are you hungry or something?"

Her cheeks go red. "No, not that." She lifts herself onto tiptoe and presses her lips lightly to mine. "We should get going or we'll be late to the movie." Isabelle and Simon invited us over to see a movie. Apparently, Isabelle needed an excuse to 'have a bash.' Well, I guess Clary lives there, so she wasn't really invited over. It's all so confusing.

"Alright," I agree, and look down into her bright green eyes. A rush of some feeling runs through me, warm and welcome, but I have no idea what it is. "Do you need to borrow a jacket or something? It's snowing out there." I eye her dark green sweatshirt.

Clary smiles shyly. "If you don't mind."

"I'll never tire or seeing you in my clothes, angel face," I assure her, and she follows me to my bedroom. It's true. Whenever she borrows something of mine, it makes me feel better to see her in the garments. I usually make my bed in the morning, but the sheets are still rumpled in a lovely way from two bodies having slept in them rather than one. Clary's cheeks go pink as if she'd thinking about the same thing. Then a bit of shame shoots through me. Have I ever just had a girl in my bed to simply sleep? Was it always just for sex?

I push away the thought. I'm with Clary now.

I hand Clary one of my black jackets and she pulls it on. It's so large on her that it hangs down to her thighs. She wrinkles her nose at me in an adorable way. "You're too big."

"No," I say, zipping up the jacket for her. "You're just tiny."

"Am not!" she says back, and I press a kiss to her cheek, right next to her mouth. When I pull back, she's smiling.

I slip my hand into hers. "Let's go."

* * *

Isabelle has chosen a movie starring Aline Penhallow. It's one of hers from a few years ago, and one I've only seen a few times. Simon groans as she selects it, but doesn't object. Clary settles onto their couch with me and kicks her feet up on my lap. As she turns her head to watch the movie, I study her features.

Her small nose, spattered with freckles, slightly crooked. She has the same nose as her brother, and the same eyes too. Jon's words echo in my conscious. Is it even safe for Clary to be my girlfriend when she's so unprotected?

The last thing I want is for something to happen to Clary because of me. A bolt of fear runs through my gut at the thought, and I twist my hand tighter into hers. We've only just started to date, _really_ date, but maybe I should ask her to move in with me. But what if she said no? I don't know; I don't know.

So instead I just clutch her fingers against mine and try to enjoy the moment. Still, the nagging of Jon's warnings repeat in the back of my mind, ever present. And what if he's right about our relationship? What if I really am putting Clary in danger? It is the last thing that I want.

"I don't want to be anywhere where I'm not with you," says Aline on the screen, garnering a satisfied whoop from Isabelle and a groan from Simon. Clary just lets out a small sigh.

* * *

 **Clary**

Jace is quiet as we sit on the couch in my apartment. Izzy lounges on the divan, cackling at the movie she put on, and Simon sits on the floor next to it, his head tipped back into her lap. But Jace just blankly stares at the screen, his fingers absentmindedly tracing round patterns on the skin of my legs, which I've kicked up onto his lap. I lean forwards and drop my chin onto his shoulder. "What's wrong?" I murmur, his hair tickling my nose.

He turns his head, his tired golden eyes meeting my own. "Nothing," he says with a small smile, and presses a light kiss to my temple. But there is something clouding his eyes. Maybe he just doesn't want to say what it is with Simon and Izzy in the room. I lean my head into his neck and his fingers lift, running through my curls.

After the movie ends, Simon and Izzy head down the street to do God knows what. They've been sneaking out a lot recently. I snake my arms around Jace's waist, burrowing closer to his warmth. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" I ask after a moment of yawning silence.

"I told you already," he says, too light to be truthful. "It's nothing."

I pull back from him. "It's not nothing," I say.

Jace frowns, looking everywhere but at my face. "You brother talked to me," he says.

"Jon? Whatever he said, it doesn't -"

"Maybe the things he said weren't wrong," he interjects, his fingers stilling in my hair. He gently untangles them and knots them in his lap.

My blood begins to go cold. "Jace. What are you talking about?"

His eyes are alight with heartbreaking clarity. "Maybe I -I'm not the best choice," he says slowly. "I mean, it's probably a lot for you, so fast. And maybe we should go...slowly."

"You're worried that I can't handle it?" I ask incredulously, standing up from the couch to look down at him. Infuriatingly, he stands too, and I have to tip my head back to look him in the eye.

Jace looks down at me, a conflicting expression playing across his face. "I know you can." His voice is low, careful. Then he leans down and presses his lips to mine. I reach up, my hands wrapping around his shoulders, and then he's pulling away too soon. "I'll see you soon, Clary," he says, and leaves one last peck to my lips before sliding out the door.

I don't want Jon to have planted doubts in his mind. I'm done skating around the fact that Jace is the one that I want. And if he truly is...maybe it's time to show him that. There should be no doubts here, not anymore. I pull out my phone and dial up Izzy. She picks up on the third ring. "Clary? SImon and I are just picking up a bottle of wine."

"I need your help," I say into the phone.

"I'm listening."

"I want to go to Jace's tonight," I say, keeping my voice into the phone quiet in case Simon is nearby. My cheeks are horribly hot as the words leave my mouth. "I want to...to..."

I wrench the phone away from my ear as a loud shriek sounds on the other line. "Iz, please," I beg her through the phone.

"You," she gasps, "are serious?"

I groan and sink back down onto the couch, curling my knees up to my chest. "Please don't make a scene. I'm begging you."

Through the phone, I hear Simon's muffled words, and Isabelle's reply: "We need to go home. No, right now! It's about girl stuff, you cow!" Then she laughs and says, "I'll be there in a few. Hang tight."

And indeed, in a few minutes, she's barging in and throwing her arms around me. "Is someone going to tell me what's going on?" asks Simon with a sigh.

"Clary?" says Isabelle, lifting an eyebrow.

"I'm going to Jace's," I tell Simon.

He nods slowly, awkwardly. "Oh. Oh. Alright. Well, I will...make myself scarce."

Isabelle lets out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a shriek and pulls me into my bedroom. "Okay, girl, we've got a little bit of work to do. Where's that set I got you?"

"In my closet?"

She nods her approval and says, "Wear that. I'll wait outside while you change."

The only nice undergarments I own were a present from Isabelle a year ago. I don't think I've ever even tried them on. But if not now, when will I? Izzy taps her foot impatiently against my door as I change into them with shaking hands, the lace fragile in my trembling fingers. Black. It makes my skin look pale.

I assess myself in the mirror when I've dressed in them, barely recognizing the girl staring back. She wears an expensive bralette of fine black lace that curls delicately to the bottom of her ribs. I don't wear things like this. I've stepped into Isabelle territory. Before I can open my mouth, the woman herself barges in.

"I never thought this day would come," sighs Izzy. I shoot her a dirty look and pull nervously at myself, my reflection doing the same. "Stop doing that," says Izzy, pulling my hands away. She passes me a jacket, which I gratefully fold on over myself. My heart hammers in my chest. Isabelle leans back and looks at my nervous-pale face. "Are you sure?" she asks softly, her voice suddenly gentle.

"Now's as good a time as any," I say, my voice unusually hollow.

Izzy pulls me into a tight hug, the smell of her vanilla perfume encompassing me. "Remember that you can back out at any time, Clary," she says into my ear. "If you aren't comfortable with something let him know."

My heart swells in affection for her - the sister I always wanted. "Thank you," I tell her.

She pulls back and brushes my hair behind my ear. "Call me," she says, and I don't need to ask her to know what she means.

And then I turn away.

* * *

 **I have finals next week so I'm not sure if I'm going to post then, but I WILL TRY!**

 **I read the A Court of Thorns and Roses series over my winter break and let me just say - THEY ARE SO AMAZINGLY GOOD! I read all of them in five days because I could not put them down. I recommend that series to all of you because it really was just so incredible. Side note to that: Lucien is my favorite and I kind of feel like the fandom is mean to him. No matter. I love him with all my nerdy heart.**

 **For the person that asked: I pronounce Idris as ih-driss.**

 **For the person who said that Limelight is changing the kind of fics they read - that made me feel really special and nice. I'm so glad you like the story :)**

 **ALSO GUYS: THEY CAST JORDAN ON SHADOWHUNTERS! He is so Jordan-y and I am soso excited to see him on screen. Spoiler alert: I'm a Jordan+Maia shipper so...I can't wait. Hurrah!**

 **Thanks for reading and still being interested in my story! I'll see you all next time :)**


	32. Chapter 32

**Clary**

There's a pounding in my head as I stand outside of Jace's door, trying to work up the courage to knock. Nervous sweat gathers in the lines of my palms, which I keep wiping off on the outside of the long coat Izzy gave me, the only layer over the lacy undergarments. It drapes low, to the middle of my bare calves. What am I even doing? This isn't like me at all.

Still, my fist lingers a few inches away from the door. Just one knock, and then I'm in. And I want it, don't I?

Yes. Of course.

My knuckles rap lightly against the door and my heart begins to hammer in my throat. Is it too late to leave now? To just turn away and -

"Clary," says Jace in surprise, looking down at me.

I swallow and smile up at him. "Hi Jace." What am I even supposed to do? Izzy would know, but I can't exactly call her right now.

His face splits into an easy smile and I enter his suite, wiping my palms off for what feels like the millionth time tonight. "You didn't tell me you were going to come over tonight."

I turn to face him. "I wanted to see you," I say, and then the words keep tumbling out. "And then tomorrow morning, I want to wake up with you again."

Jace's expression melts into a somewhat relieved one. He must have thought I came because something was wrong. "Of course, Clary. You can always come here, whenever you want. I'll get you a key," he adds, and my heart skips a few beats.

"That's not the only reason I came here," I continue, and my voice shakes. Before I can lose my nerve, I grasp the zipper on my coat and pull it down in one fast swipe. The sound seems too loud for the silence of the room, and rings in my ears. I know that my cheeks are bright red. I finally dare to look up at Jace's face. His eyes are blown wide and insanely dark, only a small ring of gold surrounding his irises. Shame rises within me, choking me. "I'm sorry," I rush out, my words stumbling over each other. "This was a bad idea, and I know I'm not - I'm not -"

What was I thinking, coming here to do this? This is _Jace Herondale_. I could never compare to the others he's been with. "No," rasps Jace softly, coming slowly towards me and running his fingers over the shoulders of the coat. "You're beautiful, Clary." And he sounds like he really means it. "Can I...?"

"Yes," I tell him, and suddenly it isn't nerves that plagues me. As his hands slowly push the coat from my shoulders, his lips meet mine. The cool air of the room rushes up to brush my skin as his mouth moves against my own, slow and gentle and soft. Lightly, like he's afraid he'll scare me away, his fingertips brush against my bare back, pulling me closer to him. But then I slide my tongue against the seam of his lips and he comes alive.

His hands tighten against my waist, pulling me up against him. I let my hands run from his curls down to the hem of his shirt, feeling the soft and thin material slide between the pads of my fingers. Our lips break from each other as I drag the fabric up his chest and over his head. Where this sudden confidence is coming from, I have no idea. Then my hands are against his uncovered chest, moving along his warm skin. I pull my lips away from his and trace the tattoo over his heart with the tip of my finger. "It means something else," he says suddenly, his voice low and rough.

I look up at him and lift an eyebrow, laying my palm over his heart. "It's still a reminder," he goes on. "But it's to let me know that emotions serve a purpose. They don't make you weaker. They make you stronger." His voice becomes heartbreakingly soft. "Thank you."

A few hot tears prick at the edge of my eyes and I whisper back, "I think you always knew it. You just couldn't let it out. But you can with me. You never have to hide a thing."

Jace's golden eyes are wide with emotion as he leans in again, capturing my lips and murmuring against them. "I love you," he says again and again, slowly and then faster, like he can't quite believe it. And then he's lifting me, his hands braced on the backs of my thighs. I wrap my legs around his waist and press my lips into the crook of his neck as he carries me.

Then the soft sheets of Jace's bed are pressed against my back. Jace stands at the edge of the bed, his hair glowing gold with the soft lights of the room, his eyes dark amber. I reach for him, wanting the warmth of his body against mine, and he falls gratefully into my arms, his curls tickling my cheeks and eyelids. _I love you._ His lips brush gently over my face as one of his hands begins to slide against the skin of my shoulder. _I love you._ His other hand finds a place in my hair, tangling in my curls. _I love you, I love you, I love you._

Then he pulls away, his face so near to mine that I can make out every detail. "Are you sure?" he says quietly, breathlessly.

And I suppose if I had changed my mind, now would be the time to say so. I study his face - the widened eyes, darting around my face for evidence of hesitation; his lips, flushed from my own. But my decision has long since been made. He is beautiful, and wonderful, and mine. So I tell him so, and he presses his lips to mine as his hands press into my skin.

* * *

 **Jace**

The morning is tinted with gold, the way it usually only is in the summer months. When my eyes open, I'm aware of the familiar smell of strawberry shampoo tickling my nose and a warm shape curled into the curve of my body. A smile fights its way across my face as I see Clary's sleeping form pressed against mine, the neckline of my t-shirt sliding down over her shoulder to reveal the pale, freckled skin there. I can still picture her pulling it on over her head last night before falling into my arms to sleep.

I gently press my lips to the spot and she stirs with a soft sigh, her green eyes fluttering open to meet mine. Her cheeks instantly go pink, but I don't want her to be embarrassed. I let my lips travel down to meet hers, and she grins against my mouth. I pull my head back a few inches and look down at her, outlined by the fiery curls splaying around her face on the pillow. "Hey," she says softly, reaching up to push my hair back from my face.

"Hey," I reply, and then we're both laughing softly. My head falls back against the pillow and she snuggles in close, resting her head in the place where my shoulder meets my neck. We both settle into the sheets again, letting the early morning sun play across the bed.

A distinctive buzzing starts abruptly and Clary groans, pulling herself from my side to rummage for her phone under her pillow. As soon as she finds it, I pull her back into my chest and press my lips to the skin behind her ear. "Iz?" she says into the phone.

She's so close to me that I can hear everything Isabelle is saying into the phone. "You were supposed to call me last night!"

"Sorry," replies Clary softly into the phone, the stark opposite to Isabelle's yelling on the other line.

"Well, if you were too _busy_ to call..." says Isabelle. I shift my lips from behind Clary's ear to the top of her neck.

Her breath catches as she answers her friend. "I should have called. But I'm alright." I press my lips firmly to the skin above her throat.

Isabelle _hmphs_ into the phone. "So what? You're just not going to tell me anything? You just -"

"Isabelle," sighs Clary into the phone. I bite lightly on her skin and she tries - and fails - to stifle a groan.

I smirk against her neck as I hear a gasp through the line. "Oh my God!" yells Isabelle. "What is going on over there?" I run my finger over the darkening skin on the side of Clary's neck and lower my eyelids to her.

"I have to go," she says to her friend, and the phone falls from her hand as my own begin to lift the shirt from her stomach.

* * *

Alec throws me another exasperated look as I take an overenthusiastic sip of water from the bottle in my hand. It's going to be a long day of shooting today, but it doesn't matter - I feel great. "Need something?" I ask him, smiling at a girl from the craft services as she passes us.

"You could just try to look a little less smug about what I know you did last night," he says lightly.

I nearly drop my water bottle. "What?"

Alec rolls his eyes at me, but he's smiling. Faintly, but smiling. "Jace, I've known you for such a long time. You're not very good at hiding things from me."

"Do I really look smug?" I question, just as Magnus and Aline walk up to meet us. Aline's slanted eyes glance between us, as if she's trying to glean what it is we're discussing.

Magnus flicks his catlike eyes to me for a moment. "This is an emotional scene," he says, pushing one ring-studded hand through his electric blue-tipped hair. "So I want to feel it, Herondale. I want you to convince me of what you feel."

It shouldn't be hard. Not when the smell of Clary is still fresh in my nose, and her laugh still echoing in my mind. "I can do it," I tell him, and his mouth tilts into a lopsided grin.

"Of course you can. It's why I cast you." He turns to Alec, who frantically rearranges his messy black hair. Magnus gently takes his wrist and guides it away, bringing it to rest on his chest. He leans in and presses a light kiss to Alec's lips.

"They work together well, don't they," remarks Aline, taking my arm and steering me away. We both have all of our stage makeup and clothes on - black gear, a little dirtied, and swirling black marks on our skin. She smiles and says, "Thank you again. For everything."

I sweep my hair over to the side of my forehead the way they like it to be on camera. "There's no need to thank me, Aline."

She punches me lightly on the shoulder and we make our way to the center of the set - a greenhouse scene, complete with bursting blooms and decorative windows. The lighting makes it look like twilight in the room. "Are you ready to stir up some romance?" she says jokingly.

And when I look back at her, with my mind full of Clary, I smile. "Always."

* * *

 **Sorry that this chapter was 100% fluff. Actually, I'm not that sorry.**

 **IT'S JACE HERONDALE'S 27TH BIRTHDAY LADIES AND GENTS AND EVERYONE IN BETWEEN! So of course I had to post. And this is a happy chapter for him so it's fitting that I can post it today. I love my baby boy Jace. Do not hurt him and protect him at all costs.**

 **Hope you guys liked this chapter! Again, the whole entire story is low key an experiment on writing romance for me so I hope this met everyone's standards. I tried to make it kind of fit together so hopefully it works. I was tempted to end the story right here. It would be such a happy ending guys...but there is one thing left for me to do. I apologize in advance.**

 **You are all amazing and beautiful and wonderful people and I am thankful for you!**

 **xoxo, maturebel**


	33. Chapter 33

**Clary**

I twist my wet hair up into a knot and jam my pen through it, folding up my final draft of the last comic in our series and tucking it away. We'll be picking up with a second series in a few months, but they've been selling so well that we're taking a break.

Probably because Jace came to the store that one day. The memory makes me laugh a bit. It feels like it happened years ago. "Simon!" I call, leaning my head back over the edge of my bed. My door opens and he comes in, upside down in my field of vision. I hold out the folder for him to grab and he does, lifting an eyebrow at me. I flip myself over on the blankets and grin up at him. "It's done."

"Workaholic," he teases, and nudges me to move over. I make space for him and he sits, opening the folder and sifting through my finished work. When he's done looking, he lifts his eyes to meet mine. "They're perfect," he says.

I adjust his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "Of course they are," I tell him, forcing my face to be serious. "We're such a great team it could never be anything but."

He grins down at me. "What would I do without you, Fairchild?"

"Nothing much," I say back, and he sets the drawings aside. "What?" I question when he lifts an eyebrow at me.

Simon smirks and turns away. "Nothing. I'm just thinking about all of this."

"All of what?"

"This." He gestures between us. "Everything's changed. But it's good, isn't it?"

I consider it. "Yes," I agree, leaning my head onto his shoulder.

His phone buzzes and he jumps. "Oh! Clary, sorry, I gotta run. Jordan's going to meet me for band practice, and I have to get the copies of these, and we have to run a shift at Midtown first."

I burst into laughter. "You actually started one?"

"We're choosing between the names 'Champagne Enema' and 'Rock Solid Panda,'" he says.

A snort escapes me. "Wow. Big decision."

"It is!" Simon protests, and stands, bringing the folder with my sketches with him. "See you tonight, Clary." He leaves the room and I slide off of my bed, pulling on an extra sweater over my head. The apartment is freezing - our radiator is down. I survey my reflection in my mirror.

Same carroty hair, same freckly red cheeks. Same short arms and legs and long painter's fingers that belonged to my mother. Same green eyes fringed with ginger lashes. How is it that I look the same when everything is so changed? I turn my head and glance the purplish mark, fading on my skin, just under my ear. My cheeks heat but I grin at myself in the mirror. It is a remnant of Jace. He's been busy filming for the past few days, and I'm aching to see him. I'm debating pulling out my phone to give him a call when there's a knock at the door.

When I go and open it, Jon stands on the other side of the threshold. "I ran into Simon in the hall," he says by way of greeting. "He said you were here."

"Hm," I say, letting him in and shutting the door behind him. "That Simon. Always selling me out."

Jon's eyes remain serious as he turns to me. "I wanted to talk to you about Jace."

My heart stutters. "What about him?"

"You could just give it a rest," says Jon. His voice is tight and almost hurt. "You know. Stop dating for at least a little while. If it's too stuffy in your apartment, you could come and live with me."

I shake my head before he finishes speaking. "No, Jon. Listen. I know when you've seen Jace he hasn't been at his best but -"

"He is _not good enough_ for you," hisses Jon, a new fire lighting his green eyes, darkening them until they almost seem black. "By the Angel, Clary, can't you see that? The last thing you need is someone who is going to be _drunk_ all the time! And he's a smoker, for God's sake!"

"Stop it Jon!" I yell.

He advances towards me at a quick pace until his face is next to mine. "Clary. I have always protected you, haven't I? He's not good for you!" His arms close around my shoulders and he shakes me roughly. I gasp in surprise. Jon's eyes are wide and frantic. " _You're not listening!_ "

"Stop!" My voice has risen to a loud scream. Jon seems to deflate. His breathing slows and he steps back away from me, pacing and dragging his hands through his hair.

"I'm sorry Clary," he says softly. "I just...I need to -" Jon looks away, his hands curling and uncurling from fists at his sides. When his gaze meets mine again, his eyes are true and serious. "You're my little sister."

"And you're my big brother," I reply, reaching for him. Jon's expression melts to one of relief and he comes forwards and pulls me to his chest, running his fingers through my hair. They keep getting snagged on the rough curls, but I don't stop him. "But I can make my own choices, Jon. I'm not a kid anymore."

He lets out a deep breath above my head. "I'm never going to stop protecting you," he says in a deadly serious voice. "If anyone so much as lifts a finger towards you ever again, may God have mercy on them."

"Jace won't," I tell him, ignoring the shiver that runs down my spine at his words. Knowing Jon, he means them.

"He better not," says Jon, releasing me by a few inches so he can press a light kiss to my forehead. His eyebrows furrow together. "If anything happens, call me _first_."

I meet his gaze and nod. "I will."

* * *

 **Jace**

The streets of Brooklyn are matted with clumps of gray-brown ice and sludge, stained by the exhaust from the never-ending pour of taxis and cars. Despite the gray skies and biting wind, the sidewalks are still packed with pedestrians hurrying by and ducking into businesses and storefronts. "It is ungodly cold," says Aline, twisting her scarf around her neck to bring it closer to the skin there.

"I told you you needed a hat," chimes in Helen, Aline's new girlfriend. The latter throws her a look and we continue down the walk towards Midtown Comics. We have a few hours off of shooting today, and when I told Aline I was going to pick up the new issue of Clary's comic series she insisted she wanted to come too. One text later, we were being joined by Helen.

We reach Midtown Comics and I push open the door, welcoming the rush of hot air that flows out of it. "This is so cute!" says Helen, looking around the store. A few tendrils of white-blonde hair have escaped her braid and float around her face. "When I was in high school I was such a comic book nerd."

"Then today's your lucky day," says a voice from behind the counter. Simon looks over at us, a cup of coffee in one hand and a pen in the other. "Herondale," he says. "I thought you were shooting all this week."

"I'm on break," I say, coming up to rest my elbows on the counter. "Though I'm flattered that you love me so much you memorized my schedule."

He snorts. "Ha, ha. Very funny. What are you doing here, instead of visiting Clary?"

"I came to pick up the new issue of the series," I tell him, leaning back against the counter. Helen and Aline are idly flipping through various books on display.

"It's not on sale yet," says Simon.

I give him a look.

"Okay, okay," he sighs, and motions for me to follow him. "I guess I have to make an exception. Clary's drawings really have been so much better lately." Simon lifts an eyebrow at me. "I wonder why."

We enter the back storeroom, a dimly lit closet-like space stuffed full of boxes and odd t-shirts. A shaggy haired boy stands among the stacks, and looks up when I walk in. My blood instantly runs cold. This is the one I saw kissing Clary through the window. "Simon!" he says, his eyes darting between us.

"Yes?" says Simon, reaching over a haphazard pile of boxes for a small crate. He seems to find what he's looking for and nods to himself.

"Hello," I say, and my voice comes out only slightly cold.

The boy's hazel eyes meet mine. "You're Clary's boyfriend," he says, and then he smiles easily. "Nice to meet you. I'm Jordan Kyle. Midtown Comics employee, and lead singer in Champagne Enema."

"In what?" _What the hell?_

"I told you," says Simon with a good-natured shove on Jordan's shoulder. "It's going to be called Rock Solid Panda. We're starting a band," he adds when he sees my confused look. Simon hands me a glossy comic book, bursting with colored ink. "Keep it hushed up. It's not on sale for another two days."

I nod. "A band. I see." My eyes travel down to the comic book in my hands. The main character - Seraphina - stands amid a swirling cloud of gold flames, a blade held in her hand. Black onyx stars run down the sword, reflecting the flames, and her green eyes are full of anguish. It's beautiful. "Is she supposed to be like Clary?" I ask quietly, taking in the somewhat familiar copper curls of the heroine.

Simon pauses and leans back against a shelf, making it whine precariously. "Clary won't admit it. But when I first pitched the series idea to her...yeah. A bit."

I smile down at the drawings and look back up at them. Jordan is fiddling with a sort of medallion around his neck and keeps glancing down at his phone. "Shall we go back to the front before Aline and Helen empty your cash register and make a run for it?" I offer, and Simon gives me a halfhearted glare.

As we push back into the main area of the store, the door wings open, loosing a rush of cold air that sweeps around the small store and sends a chill through my veins. Standing frozen in the doorway is Clary: her lips slightly parted; her coppery curls tied up in a bun; a pair of white earmuffs set on top of her head. Her emerald eyes are wide as we stare, taking each other in for the first time in days. "Clary!" yells Simon. "Shut the damn door!"

She obliges, running from the doorway and wrapping her arms around me. I breathe in her familiar scent - strawberry shampoo, paint, and coffee, now mixed with the metallic tang of cold air. She pulls back a few inches and says, "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be shooting all week!" Behind her, Aline whispers something to Helen and they both grin.

"I'm on my break," I tell her. "And I had to come pick up this." I show her the comic in my hand before setting it on the counter behind me, along with the earmuffs I've slid off of her head. I lean in closer to her ear and say, "Miss me?"

Clary shoves my shoulder. "You wish." But she lifts herself onto tiptoe anyways and presses her lips to mine. And as I wrap my arms around her to keep from swaying on the spot, I can't help but to grin against her lips.

* * *

 **It's been a while!**

 **Sorry for the long break. I had finals the past week so I was pretty busy studying and all. Good news though - I got As in all of my classes this semester! (Even though I spent a ton of time writing fanfiction and surfing tumblr instead of studying haha)**

 **So...hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Be back soon for more :)**

 **Love ya!**


	34. Chapter 34

**Clary**

"I don't like weddings," I tell Isabelle for the tenth time. She purses her lips at me and slaps my hand away from where she's pinning up my hair in the back.

She pulls a bobby pin from her mouth and says, "You're going to have to tough it up." She slides a few more pins into my hair, holding the unruly curls back in a pretty twist. "There."

I catch my eye in the mirror and hold the gaze of my reflection. Isabelle helped me pick out a dress - a simple lilac thing that falls to just above my knee. I managed to talk her into letting me wear flats as well, to avoid the embarrassment of tripping and falling at the wedding. She's put warm gold powder on my eyelids, bringing out the green in my irises. "What am I even supposed to do? I barely know Jem and Tessa."

"So what?" says Isabelle, stepping back to admire her handiwork. "Weddings are fun. And Jace will be there with you."

That much, at least, is true. And I did tell Will I would be there, so I have to show up. I groan and fiddle with the skirt of my dress. "I guess."

Isabelle pulls my hands away from my dress and looks me over again. "Try to have fun, will you?"

"Yeah," I reply half-heartedly, and glance at the time on my phone. Jace should be here to pick me up any minute. I haven't seen him in almost a week, what with his filming schedule and all. I'll have to ask Magnus if I can visit him on set.

After the wedding, of course.

There's a rap at the door, and Simon yells, "I'll get it!" Isabelle gives me one last look-over and nods in satisfaction.

We exit my bedroom to see Simon and Jace talking amiably by the door. When did they become friends? I smile a little, despite my nervousness. And then I take in Jace and pause.

He's wearing a dark gray double breasted suit with a light purple silk shirt underneath that matches my dress. I rarely see him in colors other than black, and I can't say I'm complaining about this combo. He looks up and sees me, and his eyes glimmer. "Good luck," murmurs Isabelle in my ear, and then takes Simon by the arm and steers him out of the room.

A wise move. Because by the look in Jace's eyes, I could guess he wants to be alone with me right now. I walk towards him slowly, teasingly, and his eyebrows pull together, watching me. When I'm just a few steps away, he closes the gap between us and presses me against him, leaving an infuriatingly soft kiss on my lips. He pulls back before I've had enough and I glare at him. He just winks at me. "Later," he says, and offers me his arm. I take it. "We wouldn't want to be late, would we?"

"No," I reply meekly.

He grins and leads me from the apartment. The wedding is going to be a nice one - Jem and Tessa are having it on the Coney Island Pier. "So." I lean my head into Jace's arm as we reach the street. "How are we getting to this wedding?"

He looks down at me with an amused expression. "I would be an awful boyfriend if I made you take the subway everywhere," he replies, and gestures to a sleek black sedan pulled up to the curb.

I punch him in the shoulder. "Jace, this is too much!"

"It's never too much if it includes you," he says back, and helps me into the backseat. I've never been in a ride like this one before. There's a shiny black barrier between the back seat and the driver. Jace knocks on it and it rolls up a few inches. "Coney Island Pier," he says, and without another word, the window closes and the car rolls into motion.

I lean against him and say, "You don't need to spoil me."

"Of course I do," he says, and tucks a bit of hair behind my ear. "I plan to make your life very..." He presses a kiss to the skin next to my ear. "Very..." His lips travel down to the top of my neck. "Easy."

I turn my head and he's already there. His lips move easily against mine, naturally, like we are two puzzle pieces that fit perfectly together. I nip his lower lip a bit and he groans, pulling me halfway onto his lap. His hands lift to my hair and begin to slide the pins out. "Uh, uh," I say against his lips. "Excuse me, Mr. Herondale, I'm on my way to a wedding and I need to look presentable."

"I see," his rough voice answers, and his hands go instead to the skin on my back that the dress dips to show. He traces light patterns there with the tips of his fingers and I lean into his touch. "I guess I'll just have to wait until afterwards."

"If you can," I answer, trying for the flirty voice I've heard Isabelle use millions of times.

It must have worked, because Jace just growls and presses his lips to the bottom of my jaw. I run my hands down the front of his suit and feel a strange bump in his suit pocket. "What's in there?" I ask.

He looks away, but not before I see the light touch of blush that appears along the tops of his cheeks. I grin and rest my head on his shoulder. "Nothing," he replies.

Whatever it is, I'm sure I'll find out after the wedding when that suit jacket ends up on the floor.

* * *

 **Jace**

Will meets us at the end of the pier, his face flushed with the cold. Several heated tents have been set up along the wooden walk, and people scurry between them. He's dressed smartly in a pressed black suit with a tie that matches his eyes. He smirks at me with a humor that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "You've got snogging hair," he says by way of greeting.

"What?"

He rolls his eyes at me. "Push it back, will you? Everyone can see where _someone_ was running her hands through it." Clary blushes furiously at my side. "Though it's nothing I haven't seen before," he adds airily, with a sly glance in my direction.

"By the Angel, William. This is a wedding. At least pretend to be civil for a few hours." He grins at me, winks at Clary, and spins away back into the crowd. Clary watches him leave with a slightly nervous look on her face. "What's wrong?" I ask her.

"I'm worried about him, that's all," she says quietly.

I watch him, standing beside Jem in the crowd. While he listens to his best friend speak, his dark blue eyes are trained on Tessa. "Oh," I say, understanding suddenly. Poor Will. I imagine a life where Alec is marrying Clary, where I have to stand as his best man while it happens...

Clary nods with a small sigh. A woman with her hair tied back in a tight braid shows us to our seats, which are a few rows back from the front. I knot Clary's hands in my lap as we prep to watch the ceremony.

The whole things is nice - Tessa and Jem seem to glow with their own light, and even Will looks happy next to them. He glances up and catches my eye. He gives me a small, pained kind of smile and turns back to his best friend. Tessa and Jem exchange their vows, and the ceremony comes to a sweet end.

The next few hours are a blur of dancing and food. Clary hangs at my side for the whole ordeal, her cheeks flushed and a smile curled along her lips. Finally she leans in and says, "I'm tired."

"Too tired for dessert?" I ask softly.

Her cheeks go red and I grin. She knows I'm not talking about the cake. "No," she says back.

"Then let's go," I tell her.

Her arm loops through mine as we walk along the pier away from the wedding. "This was fun," she says into the cold night air as we travel towards the street.

"Yeah," I say, but my mind is on something else. Nerves begin to prickle along my fingertips. "There's something else," I tell Clary. She pauses and turns to face me again. I take in those green eyes, wide as they take me in. I reach down and feel the box in my pocket. My hands begin to sweat, which probably cannot be passed off as sexy.

She shakes her head a little bit. "What is it, Jace?"

I take a step towards her, needing to touch her in some way. My hand settles on her waist, lightly. "I've been thinking," I tell her. "And I know we haven't been dating for a long time. But I love waking up next to you in the morning..." My words dry up in my mouth. What if she says no? _What if she says yes?_

"Jace," says Clary softly. A few tendrils of her hair escaped the pins they'd been up in and fall around her face. I clench my fingers around the box in my pocket.

"I want to do it every morning," I blurt out. "If...if you want it too. I want to go to sleep next to you every night and wake up to you every morning and share my life with you." A small gasp escapes her mouth. I bring the box out in my hand and offer it to her. "It's not a ring," I say quickly. "Nothing like that. But...it is yours if you want it."

Clary takes the box in one of her small hands and flips the lid open. Inside, a simple silver key sits innocently on a black base. "This goes to your place, doesn't it." Her voice is low. Before I can reply, she says, "I don't know what to say."

I feel a twisting sort of pain in my chest. "Of course," I say quickly, letting out a quick humorless laugh. "It's too soon. It wasn't a good idea."

"No?" she replies. "Even if I want the key?"

My heart leaps. "You want it?"

Clary grins and twines her arms around my neck, standing on tiptoe to reach. "Yes," she says decidedly. I can't hold it back any longer - I pull her to me and press my lips to hers. Something I can do every day, something I can come home to.

"Jace," she murmurs against my lips.

"Hmm?"

She pulls at the lapels of my jacket. "I'm cold."

I quickly swing the jacket from my shoulders and wrap it around hers. "Right."

And then she looks up at me with a small smile. Her freckles glow gold in the streetlamps. "Let's go home."

* * *

 **IT'S BEEN A FEW THOUSAND YEARS SINCE I UPDATED, I KNOW.**

 **I've had tons going on. I was in a show at school (Inherit the Wind). I've also had tons of studying and whatnot. Plus, one of my friends was recently in the hospital as a preventative measure for suicide...and that has not been great. He's out now and doing pretty well so I'll be updating again, I think. Hopefully some of you will still want to read this!**

 **Also, side note: Will definitely says snogging instead of making out.**


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